


The Bakery

by merciki



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Canon, F/M, the canon post Mockingjay pre epilogue fic nobody needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merciki/pseuds/merciki
Summary: Peeta comes back to D12 after being healed by Dr. Aurelius.The long journey of the recovery of Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen through the rebuilding of a bakery.My take at the post-Mockingjay pre-epilogue fic
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 250
Kudos: 274





	1. Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there ... hope everyone's fine :)
> 
> Here it is. The first chapter of my new fic (or not so new, as I started it ages ago) .
> 
> Beta-ed by the most excellent xerxia (trust me, she's the BESTEST of the BEST as far as editing is concerned. And she's a pretty awesome human being too ...)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it :)  
> Please do not hesitate to write if you did or didn't ....

The memories arrived as Peeta’s train began approaching the place formerly known as District 12, now a subpart of the NorthEastern Panem. He had no clue about what he would find there besides Katniss, his old mentor, and a gigantic pile of rubble. As for her, he wasn’t sure she’d ever want to see him. 

Or if he wanted to see her.

He could feel the fear spreading through his limbs as the train sailed closer and closer, as he recognized the corn fields of what used to be D11, nearing his birthplace. He could feel the black hands of the tracker jacker venom trying to get a hold of him, trying to break him over and over, to take him back into madness. Peeta was stronger now, prepared for the attacks. He knew how to focus on what mattered - what wasn’t shiny. The small stain on the window. The noise of the train. The drop of sweat falling down his neck.

This had become one of his routines now that he knew how to fight back the flashbacks.

It had taken a lot of time working with the team of experts Dr Aurelius had assembled for him for Peeta to be able to overcome his episodes on his own. A lot of time for him to forgive himself too, to understand it wasn’t his fault, or Katniss’s fault in the first place. A lot of time to make the decision to come back to the only place in Panem he knew besides the Capitol. A lot of time to realize he didn’t really have any other place he wanted to go to, if he wanted to find peace within himself.

This had to start with saying goodbye - to what he once was.  
To his family.  
If he could.

As the train entered the so familiar decor of the mountains, he could feel the memories coming back. Memories of a time that seemed so long ago, but was only distant a few years. 

1095 days.  
Three years.  
Or something like that.

He would always remember the precise date of his reaping, June 16th as the day that changed his life, not for the better.

Gone were his childhood dreams, lost in the reality and cruelty of a war that was never his to begin with.  
Gone were most of his friends, lost in the bombing of the only place he could call home.  
Gone were all the members of his family, lost in the rubble of the bakery that was the only place he had called home for a long time.  
Gone were his hopes of a normal life, forever.

June 16th was the next day.

Irony was a bitch.

He knew if he wanted to start anew, he needed to make peace with his past.  
The past started in the rubble of District 12.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be arriving in the former D12 in two minutes. ” the toneless recorded voice chimed in the ears of the passengers. 

Two minutes.  
He had to get ready.

The train was already slowing down, the landscape outside becoming more and more familiar as the scenery became more discernible while they approached the train station.

Peeta grabbed his bag by the handle, holding on to it as if for dear life.  
He knew he had to come back to start this new part of his life, if only to pay a last visit to his family if staying there was too hard.

“This is the Former District 12. Five minutes stop.”

The recorded voice echoed in his ear. It was time.  
Time to get out of the private compartment in which he had travelled on his own. His only request.  
Time to face the world.

He didn’t pay attention to the persons disembarking the train with him, not wanting to draw attention to himself - he had been careful to hide his curls under a cap, to keep his eyes down, to act as anonymous as possible.

All his efforts were ruined in a second, though.

“Come on, Boy, I’ll walk you home.” Haymitch’s voice cut through the crowd of people to reach his ears.

Peeta lifted his eyes, searching for his old mentor. He easily spotted the older man, leaning against the door jamb of the main door, arms casually crossed on his chest, hair unkempt, dirty clothes.

“What are you doing here?” Peeta asked, once he had reached Haymitch.

“Well, looks like someone’s forgotten his good manners in the big town. What about a hello first?”

“Nobody knew I was coming back, Haymitch. Nobody.” Peeta insisted on the last word. He had made sure to buy his train ticket himself, to not tell Aurelius when he was leaving. He had been extra cautious with all his preparations to avoid being stared at or recognized in the train station. 

“I knew. I just didn’t know the date.” Peeta watched as Haymitch walked towards him, until he found himself in the unfamiliar embrace of his mentor’s arms. “I missed you, kiddo.”

It’s only then that Peeta realizes how much he had missed physical contact with someone. It had been months since someone touched him so close - the last occurrence he could remember being Katniss hugging him before leaving Tigriss’s shop.

Months since he had felt the warmth such an embrace could bring, months since he had felt the rush of feelings, the simple and plain goodness of it.

Haymitch was the first to pull away, finishing his hug with a gentle squeeze of Peeta’s shoulders.  
“Come on, we’ll talk.”

Without another word, turned to leave the station, heading -

“Haymitch? That’s not the right way? The town is ….” Peeta followed the move of his hand towards what used to be the town of District 12. Now, he could only see rubble and ashes. 

Of course, he had seen footage of his former town during his sessions with Dr. A., preparing him to come back to what had once been the only home he had known. 

Seeing it in person really was something else.

He could still make out the edges of Main Street, could still see the remnants of what had been the Justice Building, thanks to what was left of the facade. The place that once held the platform where he and Katniss were reaped some three years ago was now nothing but a field full of rocks, full of planks, full of the ashes of what had been District 12.

“You okay, kiddo?” Haymitch’s growl tore Peeta out of his contemplation of the ruins. 

Peeta shook his head. No, he wasn’t okay. In front of him, he could see the destruction of his town, of his home, of the life that had once been his, that was forever lost.

Knowing it was a thing.  
Seeing it was something else.

He felt like his insides were torn apart, his heart ripped out.  
He knew if he looked closer, towards the eastern part of thetown, he could see the familiar remains of the family bakery.

His family’s tomb.

He closed his eyes, hoping the tears wouldn’t fall, his heart wouldn’t crash, his head wouldn’t explode.

But he wasn’t strong enough yet.  
He felt the moisture on his cheeks, then hands, the scruff of fabric under his face, the smell of alcohol so strong.

“It’s okay, m’boy. It really is going to be okay.” Haymitch grumbled in Peeta’s ear. “Let’s get you home.”

Peeta felt his old mentor turning him gently, before they started walking away from the ruins of District 12.

\--

Home.

An empty house, empty of happy memories.  
Filled with a deafening silence.  
Covered in dust and spider webs.

It took Peeta several minutes to be able to get rid of his old mentor, assuring him he would be fine on his own, that he might not even be in the district for too long, and that no, he didn’t need him to stay.

Or rather, didn’t want him to stay.

He wanted to be able to bid his old life goodbye before starting over, somewhere else, anywhere where the pain in his chest would go away.

Shaking his head, Peeta moved from the windows he had opened, from where he had been contemplating the new town that was slowly rising around the former Victor’s Village. He had watched as one after another the small lights at the windows had vanished, leaving the stars and the moon shining over the district.

He took the comforter off the bed carefully, trying to avoid the dust as much as possible, before he changed the bed sheets, finding comfort in the simple, mechanical moves.

When he heard screams.  
Unbearable screams, so close.  
Deafening screams, that made him hang onto the sheets tighter.  
Heartbreaking screams, laced with fear, with tears.

He knew the voice. How could he not ? He had spent more than half of his life waiting for a word from that rich voice, had spent the last year fighting this very same voice in his head, trying to get rid of her.

He knew he had to do something.

So he did the only thing he could think of.  
Placing his hands on his ears, he started walking as fast as he could in the dark of his house, in the shadows of the rooms, until he reached the kitchen’s door, the one leading to the garden he never went to.

The garden which led to the woods he never went to either.

He took his hands off from his ears, glad for the small relief he got - knowing also the nightmares wouldn’t stop that easily.

He needed out. He started jogging towards the woods, towards the place where he knew the voices wouldn’t catch him.

He slowed down quickly, the dark of the trees preventing him from seeing where he was going.

He walked straight for a few minutes, until the sounds of the forest started their soothing.  
He stopped, looking around him.

He was standing in the middle of a clearing. The same stars and the same moon were giving the place a silver light, adorning the leaves of the trees, bathing them in sparkles, touching the petals of the flowers, rendering their fragility unbreakable.

Something in him suddenly came back to life. He took in every single detail - the soft breeze bending the lush green of the grass, the shivering of the trees talking to one another, the lights of the glow-worm giving here and there a touch of glitter.

His fingers itched for something. For a pen, some paper, something to do. 

Until his eyes fell on a little bush.

Evening primroses.

Peeta felt his heart breaking.

Again.


	2. Staying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It had now a little over been months since he came back to Twelve, months since he had first seen Katniss after so much time.  
> Months since he’d been scared at the sight of her."
> 
> Discover what happens in this second chapter of "The Bakery"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind response to the first chapter :)
> 
> Here is the second installation of the story. I can't thank xerxia enough for her kind help and her red pen :)  
> If you liked the story, please do not hesitate to leave a small comment :) thank you !

“You’re going to leave too, Peeta, and you can’t deny it! You told me so!” Katniss started running from him, before she turned to face him, again. This time, though, he could see the tears in her eyes, threatening to fall. “Because everybody leaves me, right? Everybody!”

Without another word, she fled from the street, leaving him stranded, alone.

Again.

“Katniss!” he shouted her name a few seconds later as he started going after her, as quickly as his legs allowed him.

It had now been a little over months since he came back to Twelve, months since he had first seen Katniss after so much time.  
Months since he’d been scared at the sight of her.

Peeta Mellark had never believed in ghosts, but the first time he had seen Katniss Everdeen after so many months on his own in the Capitol, he honestly thought he was seeing one. She had appeared on the threshold of her house as he was planting the flowers he had dug up in the woods, the shadow of the fierce woman she used to be.  
Gone was the Mockingjay, whose image had led thousands of people to rebel.  
Gone was the Girl on Fire, who ignited the revolution’s spark.  
Gone was Katniss Everdeen, the sixteen year old who volunteered to take her sister’s place in the Hunger Games.

Only a shadow remained of what Katniss Everdeen had once been. 

She had made so much progress, in the weeks, months since his return.  
One step after another, just like a child learning to walk and eat on her own, again. 

Everything had started with the evening primroses.  
He had meant them as a tribute to the fallen. Not only Prim, but Boggs and Finnick, Castor, the Leegs, to all the unknown faces whose bodies were laying underneath Panem. It had been a way for him to open the ground, to plant something in the hopes of seeing life bloom again.

Most importantly, it had been a way for him to forgive himself for his own losses.  
He had never been able to go to his parents’ grave - they were all buried under the Meadow, with the thousands who died that fateful night - Seam and Merchants together, at last.

There was just a stone, in the place that was used as a memorial in the new part of town, where he hadn’t been able to go to yet.

He had planted the primroses in front of Katniss’s house, because they didn’t belong in his garden. They would forever be associated with the Everdeens, not something a Mellark would have. 

He hadn’t expected Katniss to storm out of her house, covered in a dirty blanket, her hair hanging around her face in thick, unkempt bangs, the hollows of her cheeks so profound he could have sworn he could count her bones.

She had whispered or talked in a hoarse voice, he couldn’t have said.

“You're back.” 

Peeta shook his head from the memories of his first day back. He tried to get his breathing even, not used anymore to running on his prosthetic, before he walked the last stairs leading to Katniss’s door, knocking on it.

He wasn’t able to bring himself to just go in, to invade her privacy, to enter her house without her agreement.

He kept knocking, until his fist hurt.  
She didn’t answer.

He kept knocking, until night fell.  
She didn’t answer.

He almost gave up.  
Almost.

But he didn’t.  
He sat on the porch, waiting.

Until the cold air of the night covered him.  
He stayed.

His head was leaning against the door, sleep threatening to call him when he heard sounds, tearing him away from his thoughts.

“You’re persistent.” 

Haymitch’s voice was rough, his eyes red from the lack of sleep or the excess of alcohol, Peeta couldn’t tell. He felt something falling on his body, something warm covering him up. He looked down, surprised to see the old quilt usually thrown onto the back of Haymitch’s couch draped over his sitting form. Peeta shifted a little at the contact, the wool soft against the skin of his neck, the warmth of the fabric immediately starting to make him feel better.

“She’ll come around, boy.”

“Everybody left her.” Peeta moved to stand in front of Haymitch.

“Not everybody.” Haymitch turned around, as if looking at the moon or the stars, Peeta couldn’t tell. “You never left her.”

“I did, Haymitch. Time and time again -” 

“No you didn’t, Peeta.” Haymitch's voice was laced with concern, or maybe regret? “We all failed her. Her mother, her sister, her friends … I failed her, time and time again. She locked me out, too, and I just went home, hoping she would open the door the next morning. She never did.”

Haymitch started walking, his back still to Peeta. 

“I’m the one who failed her the most. You never did.” He stopped, sighing before adding. “She’ll come around. Don’t give up.”

Without another word, the old man started walking towards his house, his back hunched by the years or the shame, Peeta couldn’t say.

Soon, Haymitch was nothing but a shadow, another one in a world already filled with too many of them.

Under his blanket, his head resting against the door, Peeta fell asleep to the lullabies of the night.

He woke up to the sounds of the town slowly coming out of sleep. The noise of the animals, rummaging around waiting for their share of feed to come. The sounds of the shutters, as they were opened. The honking of vehicles downtown.

Peeta smiled, taking in the sun rising, the smells of the village awakening, the pain in his back from sleeping on the hardwood of Katniss’s porch, the comfort of the pillow - he startled at the thought, as he took in the comfortable cushion. When he had fallen asleep the night before, his head was against the door, the only protection against the September cold the blanket Haymitch threw on him. There certainly hadn’t been any pillow.

He smiled again, a soft grin that threatened to take over his face if he wasn’t careful. There was only one other person in Victor’s Village, besides him and Haymitch. Only one person who could have given him the pillow.

Who had noticed he hadn’t left.

He took his time standing up. His legs were stiff and sore, he was pretty sure he had caught a cold, his back was hurting, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to regret sleeping there.

He slowly gathered the pillow before folding the quilt, getting ready to cross the street to head home to take a shower, ready to start this new day.

“You stayed.”

Her voice made him jump. He turned around, holding out the pillow for her.

“You didn’t have a nightmare.”

Her face was fresh, a rare occurrence for Katniss. 

“Will you come for breakfast?” she asked, fidgeting with her fingers.

“I need a shower.” He needed to massage his hurting stump too, to put some soothing cream on it to ease the pain he was feeling. But that could wait. “I’ll come over after.”

There would be time for some rest later.


	3. 3. DEcisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the journey to recovery, Peeta has to come to terms with his past, and his future.  
> Will Katniss help him ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WIthout xerxia, who's the bestest of the best of the beta-readers, this story wouldn't be there :) thank you my friend for all your hard work on this story :)
> 
> Thank you to every one who has read or left kudos on the story :) .
> 
> To anyone who has reviewed : you give me the desire to keep writing for you .. Every single one of your comments make me feel giddy ! thank you :)

It became easy, settling into a routine.  
Breakfast at her place, dinner at his. Lunch wherever they wanted, together or not.

He had tried to paint as much as he could, following Dr. Aurelius’s advice to take the images out of his head, to move forward, to put his past as far away from him as possible. He tried so hard to find the sensations again, to draw something.

He never told the good doctor he hadn’t been able to draw a single thing.

Rebuilding the district was a bigger endeavour than what Peeta would have thought. As it turned out, life was still hard in the remains of former D12 - and the appeal of living next to the Mockingjay only lasted for a few months before newcomers started to pack their things to leave for more welcoming suns.

A lot of survivors of the bombings decided to not come back either, rather trying their luck somewhere else, leaving the place almost empty.

Peeta sighed as he grabbed a large basket from his kitchen’s counter. He had spent a good amount of the night baking, to try to keep the nightmares at bay, to be able to keep a grasp on reality. He hadn’t had an episode in six months, and intended to keep it that way, finding relief in the once familiar motions of kneading dough, finding comfort in the smell of the yeast.

He didn’t have the skills he used to, couldn’t remember all the recipes the bakery used to make, couldn’t put his hands on the old cookbook containing all his family’s traditions.

It was hard to not be able to remember.

He was glad he could still bake bread, though. Some kinds. Sourdough. White bread. Nut and apple filled. He totally relied on muscle memory for them, trusting his instincts, trusting himself.

The breeze hit him as he stepped out. Nothing like the cold they had experienced the previous weeks, as if spring had really decided to let go of the frozen cape that had covered the town before. There was something in the air that smelled like … spring. He caught a glimpse of curtains moving in Katniss’s house, noticing the windows were slightly ajar. He couldn’t help but think of her - of the progress she had made, day after day. She had started to heal, he realized, just as he did in the Capitol. 

He also knew the healing would take time.

He sighed, feeling the weight of the basket on his arm. He just hoped the crew would enjoy the bread. Now if they could have a bit of meat to go with it … that was something he talked to Katniss about, but she wasn’t ready to go back hunting.

She had tried to explain with her words, with so many tears in her eyes too that she couldn’t bring herself to take another life, that it hurt too much. She had tried, of course, but the damage from both Hunger Games and a war weren’t healed yet. A simple bleeding cut on his finger one evening had her in shock for a few minutes before she was able to realize he wasn’t bleeding to death and would be okay.

She needed help. He wished she would call Dr. Aurelius like she said she would. But that was another step she had to take - one she wasn’t ready for at the moment.

Peeta walked down the set of stairs that brought him onto the street, decided to find the crew wherever the guys were working that day.

The walk to the new town center was short. To Peeta’s surprise, there wasn’t any noise coming from the areas where the work was being done these days. He walked towards where he could hear some voices talking. Maybe the workers were on a break, after all?   
He was relieved to see he had been right, that the men and women were gathered together, discussing.

As Peeta came closer, he noticed they stopped talking as soon as he reached them. He immediately felt a tension building.

“Hey guys… Care to tell me what’s happening?” Peeta asked, trying to hide his uneasiness at the situation in front of him. Somehow, he knew it had something to do with him. He couldn’t think of what he had done, or what he had said that would draw such a reaction. He started fidgeting on his feet, wondering who would talk.

If someone would talk.

One after the other, the heads turned towards Thom. Peeta guessed that as the lanky man was the one in charge, the task of telling him the bad news fell on his shoulders.

Thom sighed, before taking a step forward, placing himself directly in front of Peeta.

“It’s .. well, we have plans, you see?” Thom started, as his uneasiness showed. Peeta nodded. “ We’re supposed to, well… , it’s hard....” Thom looked around at the faces of his crew. “I don’t know how to phrase it, Peeta.”

“Then, just say it, maybe? Did I do something wrong?”

Thom shook his head.  
“No … it’s just… “ He grabbed a large piece of paper from the back pockets of his used pants, opening them carefully.

On the paper, Peeta could see the detailed map of the new town, organized around the main street they were currently on, with buildings everywhere.  
“See, we’re here. We’ve rebuilt this block and this one,” Thom pointed at the drawings on the paper. “And today we’ve received an update with the new block. We are supposed to start with….” He put the papers down, looking straight at Peeta. “We’re supposed to start the bakery.”

“The bakery? A baker is coming?” Peeta asked. He didn’t know whether he was relieved by the news or not. All he knew was his heart was thumping harder in his chest. Blood was pumping in his head. 

As if the answer to this question was the most important one.

Maybe it was.

“I don’t know.” Thom admitted. “We haven’t heard about any bakers. And the bakery, on the map… it has your … it has your name on it.”

“My name?” How could it even be possible? He hadn’t asked for any building. He didn’t want to have a bakery.

Didn’t he ?

It was suddenly too much.  
Too soon.

Peeta just put his basket down, muttered a few words before hurrying back to his house. He couldn’t think of a bakery bearing his name, bearing his family’s name.

He was the last of the Mellarks.

Maybe the last one ever.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be a baker.  
How could he? He had barely healed from all the pain and violence life had thrown at him repeatedly, with barely a glimpse of happiness.

As he reached his house, he could feel the tears threatening to fall, again.  
It seemed his life could be summarized in a few words. 

Tears, pain, sorrow.

Katniss. A small voice inside him whispered.

He closed the door, locking it behind him.

The pain was tearing his heart, his soul in two.

Pain at the thought of his father and brothers, all of them laughing in the back of the bakery as Little Peeta tried to make a perfect cookie. Pain at the old scars, invisible on his skin, which left such deep marks on his soul. Pain at the new scars, so visible, the last remnants of the war. Pain at the dreams he had to let go of, of a peaceful, happy life, full of laughs, of love, of children.

The tears were falling down freely.

Somewhere inside him, anger was also rising. How could someone decide to build a bakery, bearing his name, without even asking him?

Peeta knew he needed to calm down and think. He wasn’t expecting an episode - the treatment he had undergone in the Capitol made sure of that - but he needed something to get rid of the turmoil of emotions he was experimenting.

He turned suddenly towards, fisting his hand so tight it almost hurt, before letting his body take control - his fist ended up going through the glass on the door, shattering it into hundreds of little pieces. A cry, born out of years of pain, years of anger echoed in the silent house.

Pain took over the anger as soon as the adrenaline started to fade away.

“Dammit!!” Peeta shouted, while taking a look at his damaged hand. Shards of glass remained in his flesh, blood was dripping on the ground.

He had made a mess.  
But he was feeling slightly better. 

\--  
The Dark was everywhere. Threatening to eat him alive. The whispers of the snake were echoing in his head. Katniss. Katnissssss. They hissed, again and again. Blood was falling on him. Blood was falling from him.  
Blood was everywhere.  
He was only blood.

Fire exploded. He was dying.

Peeta woke up, startled, opening his eyes to make sure it had only been a nightmare. He needed to be certain he wasn’t in his cell somewhere in the Capitol, waiting for another wave of torture.

“Did I wake you?” The voice whispered.

He almost jumped out of fear. He felt his heart racing, felt his body react to the threat. He couldn’t place where he was anymore. Panic was threatening to overcome him.

Maybe he was in the Capitol, after all, in a new kind of torture.

The air from the open window passed over his head, cooling him like a balm. He wasn’t in a cell. He was in a room.

“Who’s there?” he asked, as he tried to contain the fear. He remembered the words from the therapists, urging him to take deep breaths, deep deep breaths.  
He wished he could.

He saw a silhouette moving, rising from the old armchair that sat lazily in the corner of his bedroom, before it headed straight towards him. 

“Just me.” 

Another breath of air made long dark hair shiver in the cool of the night, bringing a familiar scent to his senses.

“Katniss?”

“Who else?”

She sounded really surprised, as if .. as if she had expected him to realize immediately she was there.

“You were expecting someone, maybe?” she asked. He could hear her voice faltering, as if she wasn’t sure she was welcome.

“I’m just .. surprised, I guess?” Peeta realized his breathing had slowed down, that the remains of his nightmares were starting to fade.

“You didn’t show up for dinner.” Katniss said. She had never been one for useless words. “So I came to bring you something to eat… and I saw the glass… “ 

He could see her moving forward towards the bed, closer to him.   
Realization fell upon him suddenly.

“You thought I had an episode…” he finished the sentence. “You came anyways?” 

A memory hit him. A corridor in the Capitol. The first time she had braved an episode to help him.

Katniss nodded. She started fidgeting on her feet, before she turned, heading for the door.

“Thank you…” Peeta said, before she could get out of the bedroom. “I… had a nightmare.”

She froze.

He could hear her screams almost every night. Admitting and talking about them was another story. But she had never asked if he had any.

“You didn’t scream...” she whispered.

Once upon another life, his nightmares had been about losing her, of witnessing her die at the hands of the Capitol, in a thousand different ways. Today they were about losing himself. How things change.

“There was blood….” she said. “All over the kitchen floor. I was worried something had happened…. or someone had come.”

Old habits die hard, Peeta thought. 

“Yeah, I kind of… “He sighed, feeling an uneasiness that led his right hand to fly towards his head, raking it through his hair. He winced as the still fresh scars hurt. “I kind of threw my fist through the glass…”

“Why?”

Peeta shrugged before he answered.

“I was mad…”

He saw Katniss’s silhouette turning to face him.

“Mad? Peeta Mellark can get mad?” He wasn’t certain whether she was mocking him or not.

“Everybody can get mad, Katniss. I’m far from being flawless.”

“Why were you mad?” 

He shrugged, again. He wasn’t sure she wanted to hear about what had happened. Hell, he wasn’t sure he would want to hear about what had happened.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.. “ Katniss said.

Before he could reply, she started walking towards the bed. In the rays of the moonlight, Peeta could see her face, lines of concern etched all over. She didn’t ask anything. She just carefully took his right hand.

He let her.

“Peeta! Did you clean your hand? Did you take the glass shards out?” 

He tried to brush her concerns away with a simple gesture of his left hand. She still held his right in her smaller ones.  
He wasn’t complaining. Her palms were warm. Soft. Secure.

“Did you disinfect your hand?” she asked, again. He could hear the concern in her voice.

“No. Just rinsed it.”

“Dammit Peeta! “ She finally let go of his hand, hurrying towards the door. For a second, he thought she was leaving, retreating to the safety of her own place.

When she passed the door without a single look, then headed towards the bathroom, something warm started to spread in his chest.

She was back a few minutes later, carrying the first aid bag that he should have used. She turned on the lights then, without asking, climbed onto the queen sized bed before she started searching for gauze and disinfectant.

She took his hand, once more, quickly putting some lotion on it. He instantly felt the cold of the iodine, followed by the stingy sensation of the disinfectant.

But Katniss wasn’t done yet. She pulled out the tweezers, removing the small shards of glass that remained in his skin one after the other, carefully. When she was satisfied with her work, she grabbed a couple of band-aids, placing them on his injured hand.

He really didn’t want her to let go of him yet. Her presence was calming, soothing. He also knew she’d be gone as soon as she was certain he was safe.

“They have plans to rebuild a bakery.” He started talking. His gaze fell on the window, slightly ajar the way he liked it. “They have plans to rebuild a bakery! And can you guess what they want to call it? Ding, two points for the lady. Mellarks! They didn’t even ask me if I was okay with that. They didn’t ask if I wanted to be a baker!!! They didn’t ask anything… they just…” He shook his head, eyes lost in the pattern the curtains were making in the wind, his anger waning.

“They should have asked you.” Katniss confirmed. “We can go tomorrow and tell them that you don’t want the bakery to have your name.”

Peeta nodded, before something caught in his brain. Suddenly the curtains held no more interest. He turned to look at her.

“We?” he whispered, not quite sure he had heard correctly. Even though he was sure he had heard correctly.

“Yes. We’ll go there and just tell Thom he can build a bakery, but without your name on it. You don’t have to be a baker if you don’t want to.”

We, again Peeta thought. Something was stirring inside of him, something… unexpected. Something he hadn’t fully embraced since he’d been released from Dr. Aurelius’s custody.

He could be a baker if he wanted to.  
Or he could NOT be a baker if he wanted to.

He had the choice.  
The freedom to choose his life.

To simply stay in his house, spending his life painting or trying to paint, having meals with Katniss. He could travel the country, or remain here, laughing at Haymitch’s ramblings or playing chess with him.

He could do whatever he wanted.

“Peeta?” Katniss’s voice was laced with concern, he realized at the same time he noticed her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I was …. I was thinking... I think.”

“You were thinking, you think?” 

“Har, har. You’re hilarious.”

“Nothing bad?” Her voice softened suddenly, but he could hear the concern laced within.

“Nothing bad,” he confirmed, at the same time he saw her hiding a yawn. “You must be tired ….”

She nodded before she started talking.

“I should go home….”

Raindrops started hitting the windows. The loud sounds of a storm coming from the hills - they always came from the hills.

“Or you could stay here. No need to get drenched.”

He almost regretted his words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He had spoken out of habit, habit of when they were having dinner or lunch, and the weather had turned to rain. He hadn’t thought he would let them out in the middle of the night.

He really didn’t expect her answer.

“Like these nights in the train?” she asked in a whisper. Her eyes were on her hands like she didn’t dare to look at him. He could almost believe there was a tiny bit of hope in her words. Almost.

Did he want to have her sleeping next to him like those nights on the train so many so long ago ? His heart shouted a resounding Yes, but his brain… he wasn’t so sure it would be wise to allow her so close to him. What if she had a nightmare and that triggered an episode ? 

Even if the good Dr. A had been adamant he wouldn’t have another one as they were somehow able to remove all the tracker jacker venom from his blood (Peeta didn’t ask how, too scared of the answer) he couldn’t be completely sure he wouldn’t react poorly.

As he opened his mouth to tell Katniss it wasn’t really safe for her to be in the same bed he was, that he had guest bedrooms, the sound of the thunder echoed in the bedroom. He immediately saw her eyes widening, then closing as the lightning struck, somewhere. 

She shivered.  
He felt her tense immediately.

He understood. He wondered how many years would pass before any of them could see a storm without thinking about the second arena.

The answer to her question was obvious.

“Like those nights on the train,.” he confirmed.

Just like those nights on the train, they fell asleep together.  
\--

He woke up alone. He wasn’t surprised.  
The storm had cleared the sky. The quiet night had cleared his mind.

His bed still smelled like her.


	4. 4. Papers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of you commented about baby steps on the last chapter ... maybe it's time for a bigger one ?

4\. Papers

It came to him slowly. The want, the desire. The will.

As the rebuilding crew advanced in their constructions, as the bakery they had planned started coming out of the ground, it became obvious.

He wanted to go back to some kind of normalcy. He wasn’t a hero, nor a savior.   
Peeta Mellark was a baker. A painter. A dreamer.

Dreams had come back with time, when the fears started to disappear, when he and Katniss started sharing a bed again, the two of them being strong enough to repel the nightmares. 

At least, most of the time.

It had taken time. Five, ten, or fifteen weeks before they realized they slept better with one another than on their own.

It had been Katniss who took the second step, coming into his room one night. Peeta had heard her screaming, again, watching from his windows the light in her room being turned on, then off. He had seen her crossing the street on bare feet, could see the shine of tears on her cheeks before she walked into his house.

He had waited, watching the stars dancing in the sky until she had reached his bedroom.   
He had turned towards her, watching her over his queen sized bed.

“You can’t sleep either ?” She had whispered, an echo to his thoughts.

“No. I heard you screaming...”

Katniss had nodded her understanding.

“I’m sorry” she had said, averting her eyes.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” It wasn’t. Snow and Coin were to blame for everything they made the both of them go through.

She had shrugged, still not looking at him. Her eyes had kept coming back to the large bed they had shared a few weeks ago.

He hadn’t said a word, just slipped under the soft sheets, before opening them for her, leaving her the choice to stay or go.

She had stayed, that night.

And the next one too. 

It became their routine. Sleeping at each other’s house, fighting the demons, together.  
Being able to sleep had made their life more comfortable. Peeta could see the circles under his and Katniss’s eyes had finally started to disappear.

\--  
It happened one day, as they were walking into town.  
Peeta suddenly stopped walking, the sight in front of him catching him by surprise.

A large forklift was parked in front of a building, the two men standing on it screwing a large sign, the white letters spelling “BAKERY” on the very black metal.

“Are you okay?” Katniss’s voice was in his ear suddenly.  
He could feel her solid presence next to him, the comfort of her hand on his arm, as he tried to gather the strength he needed to move forward.

Sometimes the smallest steps were the hardest.

“I don’t know” was all Peeta could answer. 

He could feel so much going through his mind. The shock of seeing the old building, just like it had been not so long ago, the same brick walls, the same white paint, the same large windows … Memories he thought were long forgotten started to come back.

The flour in Ty’s hair. His father carefully measuring butter. Her mother, checking the invoices. Sam’s smile at the first golden cinnamon rolls Peeta had made. The smell of raisins. The taste of yeast. Prim looking at the pastries displayed in the windows, with Katniss behind her.

He felt a blow to his chest, as if all the wind had been taken from his lungs in a second. 

“Peeta? Are you okay?” There was worry in her voice now although he was completely unable to answer her.   
He couldn’t even answer himself.  
Everything was coming back.

Every single slap from his mother. Every laugh with his brothers. Every measurement for sourdough bread. Every time Katniss came by. Every name, every face.

It was overwhelming.

The memories weren’t shiny at all.

“Are you okay?” 

He was. He wasn’t.  
Each memory was bringing its load of joy or pain, of hurt and laughs.

He closed his eyes.  
The images rushed to him, a mix of present, of the past, of the life in District 12, of both Games.

The images rushed to him, a mix of his old life in District 12, of the life he should have had in the Games.

Of the life he wanted back when he was still a child.

He could remember.

\---

“Are you okay?” Katniss’s voice echoed in his ears just after he opened his eyes. He looked around, surprised to see the familiar surroundings of his living room. Seeing Katniss, sitting on the old armchair, her legs bent under her.

“What happened?” He could remember going to town, seeing the rebuilding going strongly…

“Oh….” Peeta whispered, the memories of seeing the bakery suddenly coming back. “How am I here? You brought me back?” he asked, doubting Katniss would be strong enough to carry him all the way.

“No. Thom and Haymitch did.”

“Oh, okay then… What happened?” he asked again, moving to sit on the couch. His head was throbbing, making him wince.

“You fainted. When you saw the bakery, you just ..zoned out? Then you fainted.”

“Wow…” He could remember it, now. The flood of images, that had been too much for his brain to bear. Images from the past, from his childhood, from a life that he thought he had lost forever.

He could feel a tingling in his fingers, surely from the numb state he had been in while unconscious.

“I am sorry, I really don’t know what happened…” he said, as his hand reached his hair, the familiar gesture soothing him.

“It’s okay. “

“I should go thank Thom and Haymitch… “

“I did it.” She just shrugged. “I told them to leave and that I would let them know how you are. Figured you needed a bit of quiet.”

“Thank you.” He answered. 

“It’s nothing.” In a second, she was up, aiming for the door. “I should go.” 

“Can you stay?” He asked at the same time she talked.

She hesitated, before she turned back, walking to her seat, just as the rays of the sun finally decided to pierce the clouds, landing on her dark hair. 

It was like she was surrounded by a golden aura.

He closed his eyes. He knew he was weakened by his fainting that even though the venom wasn’t in his blood anymore, memories of it were.

“Can you please close the curtains?” he asked, shading his eyes with his hands. “I don’t.. shiny things…”

He could feel its insidious signature. The tracker-jacker venom. The traces it left in his veins, in his body.  
He started gasping, remembering his mantra over and over again, trying to calm his breath.

He knew it was just memories from before, a mechanism his body was trained to follow.  
He knew he could fight it, that he was strong enough.

He focused on the words, so difficult to find.  
Tried to find the place in his mind where the calm was laying, tried to find the strength to repel the rempant venom.

He almost failed. 

A familiar smell hit him, becoming a beacon of light in the dark that surrounded his mind.  
Soap, mixed with fresh air, added to something that was so her… 

He hung onto the familiarity of it. Onto the freshness that was hitting his nose, the promise of walks in the woods, of talks in the backyards, of laughs watching Haymitch when his geese would have hatched.  
Promises of life.

There had never been any scent in his tracker-jacker induced visions.

“Thank you”. He whispered after what felt like an eternity, or maybe was it only a few seconds, he couldn’t tell.

“No problem.” 

Katniss was seated on her old armchair again, a look of concern on her face.

“I thought you were cured?”

He just shrugged.  
“Nobody knows if I’ll ever stop seeing things. Nobody’s ever been through that kind of... thing before and survived to tell.”

“Torture, Peeta. It was sheer torture.” She dared say the word he couldn’t pronounce. “And it’s all my fault. All because of me.”

“It was worth it.”

“How can you say that?” He could see her temper rise. Could see the tears in her eyes, too. They were both so broken. “You’ve been to hell and back! We weren’t even supposed to survive the first Games, or the Second ones… and you say it was worth it?”

“Yes.” His answer was definite. No hesitation. 

He didn’t want to elaborate. He was no martyr, didn’t have the soul of one. Even if he had suffered enough for more than one lifetime, in the end… it had been worth it. To give Panem a chance at a better life, without a tyrant ruling them. He had suffered, he wouldn’t deny it, but it had been worth it.

“You’re something else….” Katniss said, rising from her armchair, walking towards the couch. He could see the anger slowly going away from her face, as she leaned down.

He closed his eyes, again, letting her scent soothe his wounds, a balm on the scars he carried within his body.

He almost jumped when he felt her lips on his forehead.

She was gone in a second.

\--  
Later, that night, he told her he wanted to have his own bakery.

But not one that looked like his father’s. Or at the place his father’s bakery was.

He applied for a licence two days later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge, huge thanks to Xerxia for her betaing skills ... she's just awesome. There's no other word.
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos - they do make my day(s) and make me want to write more ... Thank you fro staying with me in this story and for your kind words :)
> 
> If you like this story, please do not hesitate to leave a comment, or a kudo.  
> If there's something you dislike, constructive criticism is always welcome.


	5. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta finds it hard to create his own bakery. Is it fear? or something else ?
> 
> Oh, and maybe Katniss is pregnant.  
> Or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the incredible xerxia who spent such a long time betaing this story. She's an amazing beta and an incredible writer. Go check her stories if you haven't yet.
> 
> If you like this story, please feel free to comment or leave a kudo :) they make my days !  
> much love,

“So, I’m pregnant?” Peeta heard Katniss ask during one of their dinners, making Haymitch spit the soup he was eating.

“You’re what?” their mentor said, disbelief clear in his voice. “Since when did you start, well… sleeping together?”

“It’s been a while now. It keeps the nightmares at bay.” Katniss answered casually, pouring some water in her glass.

“You? Her?” Haymitch pointed at them with his fork, surprise clear on his face. “How?”

“I think you don’t need the details, Old Man.” Peeta chimed in, playing along with Katniss’s game. He knew first hand Katniss wasn’t pregnant. He had learned to decipher the not-so-subtle signs that came with her periods, like the change in her mood, her need to get under the warm comforter but mostly, her desire to not interfere with the rest of the world.

He also knew first hand that they had done nothing that would make Katniss pregnant. Sure, there had been mornings when they had woken up tangled in one another, so close not even a breath of air could come between them. Sure, there had been nights when the nightmares took their toll, screams echoing in the endless silence of the dark. 

But beyond that, nothing had happened.

Peeta wasn’t even sure if something would ever happen.   
He wasn’t even sure if he wanted something to happen between him and Katniss.

He shook his head of all the thoughts, to look back at Haymitch, who was throwing looks at both of them, disbelief written on his face.

“Nah, you’re not.” Haymitch said, before grabbing a flask from the inside pocket of his jacket. “She’d be nuts”. He added, pointing to Katniss with his fork. “And you, you’d have a stupid grin all over your face!” 

He pointed to Peeta, who started chuckling.

“Will you kids tell me what it’s all about?” Haymitch was grumping.

Peeta exchanged a look with Katniss before he started talking.

“Gossip rags. They’re on us again. We thought Katniss freaked them out the last time when she lost them in the woods. But they are… persistent.”

Haymitch nodded his understanding.  
“Bloody pests,” he whispered, under his breath. His hate for the so-called press was as high as ever.

It had taken them by surprise, a few months ago.

Peeta knew it should have come earlier, that somehow, someone had protected them, protected their privacy, their need for a peaceful recovery.

This time was now gone.

It all started with an article that Effie had sent them. A few lines in the Capitol Daily about how Peeta Mellark had decided to rebuild his family bakery, despite everything that had happened.  
Peeta had found the article one morning in his mails, along with a video of Effie scolding him for not telling her first thing that he wanted to bake again.

Peeta had just shrugged it all off. The problem had never been the lack of desire to bake, as he had told Katniss at breakfast, but more a doubt he could actually do it.

They had both agreed telling the press would lead to nothing. Who could care about a man working on a bakery, in a remote part of New Panem ?

They couldn't have been more wrong.

Whatever dam had blocked the journalists from coming over to the former D12 had broken. The press was now flooding the streets, looking for every opportunity to snap a picture of him, or Katniss or even better, a picture of the Star Crossed Lovers together. It was kind of a jackpot in terms of press.

“You’d think with everything going on in the country, they’d have something else to talk about”, Peeta had said to his neighbors at dinner one evening.

The worst part was when the Press didn’t have anything to write about, they invented it.

Stories of Katniss being pregnant, of Peeta being sent to a psychiatric ward were flooding the gossip rags from time to time.

This was at least the third time in the last six months that the news of Katniss being pregnant with her first child was hitting the news.

“I’m going to call Plutarch. There must be something he can do.” Haymitch finally said, pushing his chair back. He stood up, grabbing his jacket, before making his way to the door of Peeta’s house.

“You think he forgot about us?” Katniss asked without looking at Peeta.

“Plutarch? No. I think he has other things to do rather than looking out for us.”

“His stupid singing show?”

Peeta shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s Plutarch. Wouldn’t surprise me if he was hiding something.”

Katniss nodded before she stood up, collecting the dishes. As Peeta moved to mirror her, she stopped him.

“You cooked. I clean. That’s the deal.” She said, grabbing the plates from his hand. “You have to work on the plans.”

“I know.”

He knew.  
But it was so hard.

Peeta sighed again, watching Katniss leave for the kitchen, hearing her turn the water on. Hearing her humming lightly.

She had started singing again when she thought nobody could hear her. When she thought he was still sleeping in the early mornings, as he pretended to still be out. Or when she was doing some of the chores. Peeta wasn’t even sure she realized she was singing. It never ceased to please him, hearing her softly hum the songs they had known from their childhood.

He shook his head, moving towards the sofa, grabbing his sketchbook and pen before sitting down. He had plans to work on.

He hadn’t accepted the offer to run the new bakery in town, to the new mayor’s dismay. A couple coming from another district had opened the business instead. The need for him to bake bread had soon decreased, in favor of the new baker.

Peeta didn’t mind.  
He welcomed the free time it gave him. The time to relax, to try and reconstruct himself. Time to convince Katniss to open up more with Dr. Aurelius. 

Time to try and enjoy life. He was a nearly twenty year old man, who had known nothing but pain or hurt in his life.

He had started to draw again, cautiously at the start, afraid of what might have come out of his brushes - he certainly wasn’t ready at the time for the scenes he painted for the Victory Tour, wasn’t sure he could handle putting them out on a canvas.

Slowly, one stroke of pen after the other, under his fingers , things came back to life. 

Butterflies. A tree. Buttercup, later. The old cat was a fascinating subject to draw, to try his hands at, as the pet now spent a truly huge amount of time on an old armchair, sleeping. Sketches of his legs or his head were now filling the pages of his sketchbook, only to be replaced with tentative drawings of a building.

After getting his business licence, it had taken Peeta a few days to come to terms with the fact that he would be carrying on the bakery business. Even if he had made his decision clearly, being given the licence was something else.

At first, as a kid, it had always been an unreachable dream of his. His brothers were always meant to inherit the bakery, assuring him he would always have a job there.  
But now, it was something else. He could have his own.

The one he used to dream of, when he was just a kid.

Damn if he could remember how it was.

Sure enough, he had tried time and time over to find the lines, the edges, the design of the shop he had wanted to create. It failed every time. He could feel there was something wrong, in each detail that he drew, in some lines, but damn if he knew what.

He flipped his sketchbook to a new sheet, sighing at the empty, white page in front of him. 

“Will you let me see this time ?”

Katniss’s voice startled him. He looked up from the page, meeting her grey eyes over the sketchbook through the translucent tendrils coming from the mug she was blowing on.

There was another mug on the table, just in front of him.

She had made him some tea, probably made from some plants she had gathered in the meadow.  
He realized suddenly she always made him a cup of herbal tea, every evening.

Every single evening, whether they were at her place, or at his.

“Peeta?” Katniss said again. He realized she was still waiting for his answer.

He shrugged, looking down at the blank page.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s… it doesn’t feel right. I try to remember what I used to dream my bakery should be when I was a kid, you know? But it just won’t come back to me.”

Katniss sipped her tea, as if she was weighing her next words.

“It’s because you’re not a kid anymore, Peeta. You’re a grown man. You’ve changed - we all did. Maybe try to draw the place you want to be in now, instead of chasing a kid’s dream?”

A kid’s dream. He took the time to let the words sink in.  
Katniss was right. He had been trying to recreate a memory, something he could or wanted to hold onto.  
Not what he wanted anymore.

He had changed, that he knew. She had changed too. The world around them had changed.

He started drawing lines on his sketchbook. Random lines, that made no sense, that showed nothing.

He needed to clear his mind of his thoughts, of his memories. He let his hand work on the paper, in a silence only broken by the scratching of the pen.

Slowly, quietly, an image formed in his mind, random at first, like the shadow of a thought, until it became clearer. The strokes of the pencil became sharper. The movements of his hand quicker.

He drew until he ached, until just holding the pen hurt his fingers.  
He let the pen fall on the table where his tea had gone cold. The sound made Katniss look up from her book, a small smile on her lips.

“Been inspired?” she asked.

Peeta took a deep breath, finally looking at what was now etched on the paper.   
Something bloomed inside him. Something warm, coming from the pit of his stomach.   
On the paper, in front of his eyes that were too busy before to look closely, was a drawing of a simple building with large windows that let the light in. On the wall, there was a simple sign, showing the word ”Bakery”.

He smiled, the warmth radiating through him now, before he stood up and walked towards Katniss, handling her the sketchbook.

“What do you think?” he asked, his voice confident, watching her look at the drawing, happy to see the smile on her face.

“Peeta… “ she whispered. “It’s… not Mellark’s Bakery... it’s yours… you did it!”

She moved from her seated position on the armchair to stand in front of him. He didn’t think his next move, hadn’t planned it beforehand.

In the joy of the moment, Peeta walked towards Katniss, engulfing her in his arms.

To his surprise, he soon felt her hands on his shoulder blades, bringing him closer to her.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. 

He had no clue how long they remained in each other’s arms, bathing in each other’s warmth, sharing each other’s need for human contact.

It didn’t really matter, after all.


	6. 6. Groundwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing back together, one step at a time ... Accept the losses, start the mourning.
> 
> There's always a light at the end of the tunnel .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't updated in a while - 6 weeks or something. Holidays, anxiety, health problems would do that to me. No worries, though, the story will be wholly published as it's already finished writing.
> 
> I can't find words that are enough to thank xerxia for her help in the process of writing this story, and her even greater help in the betaing process.
> 
> If you enjoy this story, please leave a comment !

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t been in the Games?” he asked one night in a voice that was barely above a whisper. As if he was afraid of her answer.

Maybe he was.  
After all, if she hadn’t been in the Games, she would probably not be here, in his bed. Well, sharing his bed.   
Or hers, sometimes.

He knew for sure he wouldn’t be there.

“You’d both be dead,” she answered, in the same tone of voice, soft with a hint of sadness. “And I’d be mourning.”

Prim, Peeta thought, wondering whether or not he should hug Katniss, if she would let him. This was something they found themselves doing more, these days, as if they were looking for contact, for some kind of touch.

“You don’t have much faith in me…” he added, even though he knew she was right.

She moved next to him, rolling on her side to face him. He could see her, thanks to the moonlight.

“You’d have died to protect Prim.”

He would have. WIthout sparing a thought for his family, he would have died to protect Prim, even though it would have been useless.

Or maybe because it would have been useless.

“Probably,” he shrugged.

It had become easier to talk about the Games, about the arenas, about the Tributes that had died. He had to give that to the good Dr. A, time did indeed heal the wounds.

“We’re still mourning, though,” he admitted. The loss of everything they knew, of their families, of their homes, did still take a toll on them. They had to relearn everything.

They had to relearn who they were. To get rid of the charade of the Star Crossed Lovers, to find who Katniss and Peeta were.

“Yes.” Katniss’s voice was a whisper. 

He knew she still ached for the loss of her sister, of her best friend, of her still living mother. He knew she had trouble coping with the abandonment of Mrs Everdeen running away from her, from them, from the District. Knew there was even more pain added to her burden, yet she was still there, surviving all the odds and then some, still standing straight.

“We’re both still mourning, Peeta. I doubt there will be a time when we don’t.”

She was right, he knew it. There was something in him, though, something that believed life could be good again, that their lives could be happy. He wanted to believe in this vision, needed to believe this would happen.

Or all their struggles would have been for nothing.

She moved, turning on her back. He could almost feel a distance between them.

“I should go back to the woods,” she whispered again, to the ceiling, to the moon, to the night, to him? He couldn’t tell. “Hunt again, and all that. You’re rebuilding the bakery, and I’m doing... nothing.”

“Rebuilding is a big word. They’re only starting with the groundwork. And you don’t do nothing, Katniss. You’re here, taking care of yourself, of Haymitch… of me.”

He felt her shrugging, by the motion of the mattress, as if she was discarding his words. 

“That’s not me, and you know it.” He wanted to argue that this was exactly who she was, but she wasn’t finished. “But I can’t go on my own. I can’t walk those paths I’ve walked all my life. You know why? Because I’m scared! I am frightened!”

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, wondering what could frighten Katniss Everdeen.

“I’m frightened that when I come back, there will be no one left to come back to.”

“Then I’ll go with you. Into the woods. So if there’s nobody left here, there will be me.”

“But, your leg?”

“Searching for excuses not to take me along, Everdeen?” 

“It’s just… I mean, it’s not like…”

“I survived an arena and a war with this leg. A little walk in the woods won’t do me wrong,” he said, with way more confidence than what he was feeling. “Unless… you don’t want me to come? You can ask Haymitch, I’m sure he -”

“No, not Haymitch. He can’t stop talking.”

He wasn’t able to stop the laugh he felt building up inside of him. 

“Well, then I will have to pass, ‘cause I am if I recall your words and I quote ‘a bloody talker’. Right?”

She smacked his arm. Quite strongly.

“You are. But you don’t talk to fill in the silence. You talk because you like to. He’s talking to fight back the demons.”

“And I don’t?” He had been fighting his own demons too for some time now, he wanted to add, but she had always been the faster of the two, surprising him again.

“You fight them at night, when you think I can’t see you. When you talk, you keep my demons away, too…” He heard the tears threatening to fall in her words.

He did the only thing he could think of. Turned on his side, and gathered her in his arms, using the cocoon of the night to shelter her from the dark inside of her.

\--

It took Katniss a few weeks to talk about the woods again. He never pressured her, never asked her when they would be going.   
He knew better. Knew that the words that were whispered in bed belonged to the night, weren’t fit for the light of the day. 

One morning, though, she came to town to look at the progress on the bakery, a thing she rarely did, not wanting to give the now ever present press too much to feed on. A picture of her and Peeta was a sure hit in the next day’s papers.

That morning, she came. 

He didn’t see her arriving, focused as he was on the works in front of him, of the huge engines filling the hole in the ground with concrete. His building. His own, the one he drew on that piece of paper a few weeks ago, was starting to take form. 

She put her hand on his arm, startling him.

“You want to go to the woods?” she asked, almost shyly. “I’d understand if you want to stay here and watch… we can go another day.”

He knew he could stay, that she would be okay with him watching the rebuilding start. That they would go to the woods another day. Eventually. Some day.

“Yeah, let’s go to the woods,” he heard himself say.

He wanted to stay, feel the joy of watching his drawing come to life. Yet at the same time, he wanted to run away from the pain he could feel surrounding his heart at the thought nobody from his family would ever see the brand new Mellark Bakery.

The small, soft smile that shone on Katniss’s face was the confirmation he had made the right decision.

She held her hand out, waiting for him to make the next move.  
It took Peeta a few seconds to understand that he was supposed to take it - they didn’t usually get too close to one another in public, avoiding the always prying eyes of the journalists.

“We should go home, and grab something to eat first, maybe?” he said, as he reached for her fingers.

He didn’t expect her hand to twine with his, didn’t expect the softness of her palm against his, the warmth that seemed to escape from their joined hands.

“No need to, I packed a few things.”

He was happy to just nod, words lost in the air as Katniss started to drag him towards the tree line. He couldn’t get his head to stop focusing on their hands, where he was almost sure he could feel his heart beating.

Like it started beating after a jolt of electricity brought him back to life, a lifetime ago, in the cells of the Capitol.

But this time, the contact was warm. Full of life. Inviting. Friendly. Caring.

So different from all the times they held hands - except maybe for one time. A vague memory of a train came back to him, of a talk with Effie… 

\--

She took him to the woods, avoiding the meadow where the earth was still fresh from the burials, a sight that still brought them both to tears, even after all this time.

He let go of her hand as soon as he entered the forest, amazed by the simple, pure beauty of nature. He could hear birds singing to one another, could see the butterflies flying away, the flowers blooming here and there. 

He just took a few steps inside the woods before he had to stop. The colours, so different inside the forest than what he could see from his house. Shades of green he would have so much trouble finding on a palette, the rays of the sun shining through the branches, the motion of the leaves, the sway of the grass.  
He felt like he couldn’t see everything, that each time he blinked, he was missing something. 

“Peeta? Are you okay?”

Katniss’s voice, laced with concern, brought him out of his staring. Getting out of his bubble of colours, he noticed Katniss’s hand on his arm, as well as her proximity. She was so close to him he could smell the familiar odor of her shampoo, could see the freckles on her cheeks, could feel the warmth radiating from her.

“It’s so beautiful here, it’s like my eyes can’t see everything…” hHe answered, a smile on his face.

“Oh, right. Yes, it’s not bad here. Are you ready to go? We have quite a walk still before…”

“Before?” he asked.

“You’ll see…” she answered, before she started walking.

Peeta reluctantly followed, unable to keep up with her pace - he was too busy trying to imprint what he was seeing in his memory.

They walked, Katniss taking the lead, him following, for some time - Peeta was unable to tell how long, as it was quite a challenge at times to make progress on the small trail thanks to rocks, roots, grass and weeds scattering the path. 

“It’s just over there,” Katniss said finally, as she pointed to a small embankment in front of them. 

“Just OVER there?” he emphasized, seeing no path through the maze of brambles. “I’m not sure I can... with my leg, you know?” he added, feeling a bit ashamed that he wasn’t who he used to be anymore. 

“Oh… “ Katniss deflated. “I thought you could, you know? You’re doing so well, it’s almost as if you don’t have a fake leg?”

He shrugged. Of course the prosthetic was a great one, but that was nearly three years ago. Since then he had to go into the second arena, survive in the Capitol’s cells, and ultimately fight a war on it.

It didn’t help that since the fall of the previous regime, Peeta had gained a few inches and several pounds. The protesthetic didn’t fit so well anymore.

Not that he’d let anyone know. A change would mean going back to the Capitol for the procedure, a trip he wasn’t ready for.

He sighed.

“Almost is the key word. Sometimes…. sometimes it hurts,” he said, looking away from her, not wanting to see the pity all over her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Peeta? Why didn’t you tell anyone? You could have it replaced!”

“I don’t want to go back… there.”

He turned around, readying himself to go back to the town. He didn’t need to tell her more. She understood.

They were so few now who understood what it cost to go back to the Capitol. Annie, Johanna, Haymitch, Beetee, him and Katniss. Maybe a few lost victors hidden here and there, completely crazy or lost to the world. He didn’t know.

“If you’re up to it, we can go around. It will take a bit longer, but you could walk.” Katniss was looking at him, playing with the end of her braid, a sign Peeta had learnt long ago was her way to cope with nervousness.

His leg hurt. He was tired. He could feel the sweat on his back, the material of his undershirt sticking to his skin. He just wanted to sit under a tree and rest.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he answered with a small smile.

She smiled. In a blink, hurt, tiredness and sweat were forgotten, as they started walking again. 

It didn’t take that long to circle the bunk of brambles.

The view took him by surprise.  
He expected a sea of trees, or maybe some flowery meadow.

He never thought a small ocean was nested so close to the town.

Far away, so close. The only time he had seen that much water was when they had stopped in District Four during the Victory Tour, where a ceremony had been set up near the sea.

He opened his mouth as if to take in the salty air he’d once tasted - but nothing came. The logical part of his brain reminded him it was because he was standing near a lake, made of spring water, not next to an ocean. The other part just wanted to bathe in the view in front of him. The shade of the water, so still it looked like silver, the reflection of the sun giving it a golden edge, here and there. 

The peace, quiet, the stillness that were suddenly broken by a flock of ducks that broke the surface of the lake, taking their time to swim around, gliding aimlessly around.

The calm breeze, making the grass and flowers sway to its rhythm, in a dance full of petals or butterflies here and there. He couldn’t tell. Did it matter, anyway?

Here and there, a spot of color, breaking the seemingly never ending shade of green, giving the grass shape and depth, making it perfectly imperfect.

It was mesmerizing. 

“You like it?” Katniss’s voice nearly made him jump, so lost he had been in his thoughts he had forgotten she was nearby.  
He opened his mouth to tell her he had never seen anything like that before. That the place screamed paradise to him, a place where he could have forgotten the hardship of his life, a place he could have come to to rest his mind, to soothe his body.

An escape.

How could he phrase these feelings inside of him? How could he tell Katniss everything that was going through his mind, right now?  
Were there even words for it?

He knew Katniss needed an answer. He had heard the slight tremor in her voice, the hesitation in the question, the fear that he wouldn’t find it as appealing as she did.

He turned his head, looking her straight in the eye. He nodded, at a loss for words to convey his feelings. 

He never thought there could be so much beauty in one place.


	7. Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Have you ever danced in the rain?" 
> 
> Things happen in this chapter, as wounds start to heal, walls start to crumble ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xerxia did such a great job at editing this story - she truly is the best :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter ... mostly the end :)
> 
> Do not hesitate to leave a comment if you liked !

“How do we survive, Peeta?” she asked, one day, out of the blue. They were both hiding from the sun in his house, windows and blinds closed to keep the heat out, as much as possible.

“We drink a lot of water, go out only when the sun is down, and hope it doesn’t last for ages,” he answered, standing up to fetch another pitcher of cold lemonade from the fridge. “I guess we could also go to your lake, and bathe in it, but the truth is, I really can’t see myself walking there in this heat.”

They had been to the lake regularly since Katniss took him the first time. They celebrated her birthday there, far away from the crowd of people that had gathered in the day leading to her celebration. That was when Katniss had showed him the small cabin that was built a few yards inside the woods, where they had slept one night on their own.

Which had elicited a search and rescue party that had the whole district looking for them.  
They even made the news in the Capitol.  
President Paylor even sent a reminder that Katniss had to remain within the boundaries of the former District 12.

The reminder was named Gale Hawthorne.  
Whose only question had been about Katniss’s toothbrush in Peeta’s bathroom.

Peeta smiled at the memory, at how Katniss had kicked Gale out of their - his - house, forbade him to enter hers, sent him to the newly opened inn in the town center.  
They hadn’t spoken about him after. He was history.

“Want some?” he asked, showing Katniss the pitcher of lemonade.

She was lost in her thoughts, he could see it, her gaze fixated on some point over the mantel of the fireplace. He didn’t say a word, setting the pitcher on the table between them, before returning to his armchair, his sketchbook. He had the memories of the lake to put on the paper in front of him, even if he was totally aware he would never be able to recreate the magic he had seen.

Yet, he kept trying.

“No, how do we survive after… after the Games, the war?” She broke their shared silence, her voice soft, a contradiction to the words she had used. 

Outside, the muffled sound of a storm echoed in the back.

Peeta set his pen and sketchbook aside. Looking at her, he could see the question dancing in her eyes, the one he sometimes asked himself very late at night, when sleep evaded him.

“We keep on breathing, I guess. We’ve been through so much, we can’t give up now. It would be too easy.” He stood up, walking towards the closed windows. “We can’t give up, Katniss. We can’t. We have to live our life fully.”

“But why?”

“Because that’s what they would have wanted. That’s what we fought for.” He sighed, letting his thoughts wander from Finnick, the friend he wished he had known better, to Prim, the sister he wished he had, to his parents, the family he wished had loved him. “For those who hoped. Those who cried. The ones who died.”

His thoughts were on them, now. His brothers, his father. Even his mother. How Tyler never failed to get caught when he was coming back from gallivanting at the slag heap. Sam’s quiet laugh. The day his Dad showed him the proper way to knead bread.

The day his mother smiled at a drawing he handed her.

They were nothing but dust, now. Gone with the wind, scattered everywhere. 

Two small arms took him out of his thoughts. Two small arms, encircling him from behind. Katniss was hugging him, just the way he did when they were asleep, in an embrace that gave him enough comfort without restraining him in any way.

Two arms that showed him she was there for him.

The clouds exploded above their heads, making them both jump in surprise. She didn’t let go of him.  
He was glad she didn’t.

Heavy drops of rain started to fall on the windows. Yet, they didn’t move.

“Have you ever danced in the rain?” Her whisper echoed in his ear.

“What?” He was trying to make sense of her words. Dance in the rain? What for?

“Have you ever danced in the rain?”

“Why would I do such a thing?” he finally answered, still wondering what she meant.

She didn’t reply. Instead, he felt the grip she had on him loosen, until her arms weren’t there anymore. Soon, though, her small fingers nestled in his larger hand, tugging at him.

“Come on, Peeta, it’s going to be fun!”

Maybe it was her words, maybe it was the unbearable heat wave, maybe it was something else entirely, he couldn’t say. He just followed her, through the living room, through the kitchen, until they reached the door.

Rain was now pouring heavily.

“Fun? We’re going to be drenched! Where’s the fun in that?” Peeta said, still unwilling to go out.

Katniss didn’t answer, just opened the door, dragging him outside, into the rain.  
Heavy drops fell on him., exploding on his head, his arms.  
Warm water that started to clean his sweaty skin.

Refreshing him.  
Refreshing them.

Cleaning him.

He let go of Katniss’s hand, stepping fully onto the burnt grass of the garden, letting the water fall onto him. 

His hair was soon soaked, the rain trying to tame his curls, as Peeta started to feel the water making its way under his shirt, right to his skin.

The tickling of the raindrops made him laugh.

He laughed, like he used to when he was a child, with his brothers. The memories came back in a rush, giggles in the small beds, muffled sounds to not draw attention to them, quiet laughs between brothers.

He missed them. He missed them so much it ached sometimes, it took all of his willpower to not cry. Crying was for the weaks, his mother said.

That day, under the rain, though, Peeta cried, the heavy raindrops hiding the tears.

Or so he thought.

He felt Katniss’s fingers on his cheek, wiping away the moisture before travelling along his neck, shoulders, until his hands were in hers.

She took a step closer.

“Dance with me,” she said, as if it was a natural thing to do, under the pouring rain, in the middle of a heatwave.

She went on, though, placing his hand on her waist, placing his other arm just like Effie had taught them almost three years ago, during the Victory Tour.   
He didn’t dare move. He could feel his heart beating against his ribcage, was utterly aware of every place Katniss was touching him. Something stirred into him, something he didn’t dare name. Memories of feelings of years of longing coming back, only this time, they were stronger.

He felt her closer, suddenly.  
She had taken a step, moving into the cradle of his arms, as she started to move, slowly, to a tempo he couldn’t hear.  
Of their own accord, his feet started to move. It took him a few seconds to find the right rhythm, for his body to remember how used they were to dancing together.   
Only this time, they didn’t have any music to guide them.

They didn’t really need it.  
They swayed, under the rain, to a rhythm they created.

A diatribe of injures broke them apart. They both turned towards the sound, to see a completely soaked Haymitch passing on the main street, pushing a cart full of supplies, asking whoever was listening or not why it had to start raining the minute he went out.  
In much more explicit terms.

Peeta felt laughter bubble up at the sight of their old mentor, completely disheveled, throwing insults at every pebble he could find, at the rain, at the clouds above.

He heard the sound of his voice before he even realised he was laughing.

“Yeah, laugh all you want, Baker Boy! You’re drenched too!” Haymitch yelled at him, before moving forward to his house.

That didn’t stop Peeta, though.   
Only when he turned to look at Katniss, his laughter died down.

He thought he had seen her radiant before.

How wrong had he been.  
There, under the rain, in her old shorts and too thin blouse, her dark hair in a messy bun, her eyes shining, a smirk on her mouth, she was glowing.

She locked eyes with him, and he was lost.

He closed the space between them, his hands cupped her face, his thumbs lingering on her cheeks, his eyes lost in hers.  
She didn’t pull away.

Her hands gripped his arms, like she was anchoring herself to him.

He leaned in, looking for a sign she might back off, or run away.  
She didn’t.  
She leaned in instead.

The touch of her lips had his heart beating harder, his pulse going up.

It was nothing like the kisses they had shared for the cameras, cold and staged.  
It wasn’t like the kiss on the beach, heated and desperate.

It was shy and calm, a discovery.  
A newfoundland.

A new beginning.

One after the other, the layers of venom that had been built around his mind by the venom of the tracker jackers fell away.

Like old walls crumbling to leave space for something new.


	8. Roof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing. Finding comfort in one another. Moving forward one step at a time ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind words on the story !
> 
> I want to thank again xerxia for all of her help on betaing this story - she did an incredible job. I am really very lucky that she agreed to help me and words can't express that enough.
> 
> Do not hesitate to review if you felt like it !

There would be tons of things to say about kissing Katniss, Peeta mused one day. In the early hours of the mornings, her kisses were soft, lazy, while the night was for frenzy and heat. When he came back from town, it was a little smooch on the lips, when she left, a peck on the cheek.

It became their routine, one that had him smiling so much, somehow his face hurt.

Happiness had a sweet taste, one he wasn’t used to. 

It wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns, though.

They had learnt that lesson the hard way.

Peeta had agreed to keep the new development in their relationship secret, even if it sometimes was hard for him to not kiss Katniss whenever he wanted. He was glad for the years of training he had while he was younger, for the years he kept asking himself how would it feel to kiss Katniss Everdeen.

Now he knew. He had learnt how to make her moan by kissing her earlobe, how to make her hang onto him when he stole a heated kiss. He also knew she had the same physical effect on him as she did all these years ago, from what he could remember. It was harder to hide it from her than it had been at the bakery. He had stopped counting the mornings he had to wake up to take care of his business before sneaking back into bed.

Thank whoever for baker’s hours, a habit he’d never been able to get rid of.

They were taking their relationship one day at a time, now that time wasn’t an issue anymore. The Paylor government was rebuilding the country with new egalitarian laws, giving rights to every citizen. They were trying to get in touch with other countries, other human beings spread all over the planet. 

At least they tried.

Peeta was taken out of his reverie by the loud bang of the door being slammed shut, closely followed by an unfamiliar stomping. He always teased Katniss for being as silent as Buttercup when she walked, as she had surprised him several times, which led to broken glasses or plates more than once.

Today, though, he could hear her loud and clear.  
Which wasn’t a good sign.  
At all.

He carefully set his mug of tea on the table in front of him, resting his sketchbook next to it. Whatever had happened, he had no clue.

He just had the instinct that a few kisses would not be enough this time.

She appeared in the living-room, cheeks red, braid disheveled, holding a card in her hand.  
A card. And an envelope.

“These people! How could they know? How could they do this to me? To us? They’re lucky my bow is still in the woods or I would have killed them!”

As soon as the last words left her mouth, Peeta saw her crumple. In a flash he was out of the armchair, taking her in his arms. She slid along his body, as if all her strength had left, as if there was nothing to hold her up.

So he lifted her. He didn’t think, just grabbed her legs, hoisting her up until her head was on his shoulder, her torso against his.

“I didn’t mean, I don’t want them … “ She stopped suddenly. “Prim…” 

He carefully carried her to the couch, putting her down. He was about to stand up to go get them some tea when her hand caught his arm, her voice reaching his ear.

“Stay,” she begged.

“I’ll get you some tea...”

The pressure on his arm became stronger, as if she wanted to tug him onto the couch.

“I don’t want tea…. Can we … talk?”

His heart sank at the words. Of all the things his brothers told him about dating, there was one thing that they had both agreed on: Nothing good ever came out of the sentence “Can we talk.”

He sighed, trying to find a way to delay the inevitable. Katniss wanted to stop this kissing thing they had. Go back to the normalcy of things.

If there had ever been a normalcy in their lives.

He sat down, getting ready for the killing blow.

“I can’t anymore, Peeta. It’s … too hard.” 

His heart broke at her words, even if he had expected them. He was glad he was now strong enough to hold back his tears, to not show her how her decision hurt him. He just nodded his agreement, before he gathered his thoughts, standing up.

His throat was hoarse when he started talking.  
“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. Tell me if you need help packing.”

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see her agreeing. If he didn’t acknowledge Katniss was about to leave, maybe he could pretend it wasn’t real, for a few more hours. Maybe.

“What are you talking about? You want me to move out?” she asked, her sadness laced with something more, something like anger. 

Peeta opened his eyes, surprised at the change in her voice.

“Isn’t it what you want, Katniss? You just said you couldn’t anymore?” He felt defeated, even a bit angry that she would rub the salt into his wound too. 

“I never said I couldn’t live with you anymore!” She stood up from the couch too, coming face to face with him. 

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to be rid of the press, I want to be rid of my house… How can we start forgetting if everything reminds us of what happened?”

Her words took him by surprise.  
Completely.

She didn’t want to leave him.

He let the thought sink into his mind, until he could believe it.

“You don’t want to leave me? To move out? ”

He needed to be sure. Completely sure. He saw her smile, before she shook her head no.

“You’re the only thing good I have left in my life, Peeta. I’m not sure I could ever let you walk away.”

“What does that mean?”

“Does it have to mean anything?” she answered, with a small smile. Maybe she was right, he thought. They didn’t have to label anything for now. 

For now, the only thing that mattered was the relief he felt in his body and mind, at the thought they wouldn’t be separated, again. Without another thought, he moved forward, engulfing her in a hug that he needed more than he could possibly know.

Joy filled him when he felt her arms sneak around his waist, holding him as close to her as he was, breathing in her familiar smell, taking comfort in the feel of her hair on his skin. She still felt so tiny in his arms, so fragile, there had always been this urge in him to protect her. At all costs.  
Hell, it almost cost him his own life. 

He bent a little, inhaling the familiar scent of her hair, giving into the temptation of placing a kiss on the top of her head. A light, gentle, simple kiss, that in his mind meant a lot more.

“You’re my rock, Peeta.” He heard her voice, echoing in his chest, aiming for his heart, whether she had wanted it or not.

The five words pierced him, rendered him speechless. He could feel a warmth spreading inside of him, coming from the center of his chest. Not a scorching fire like the one that left them with scars, no, it was something more muted, more grounded. 

Something that would last forever and a day, long after the fireworks had died, something that grounded him into the present, that allowed him to think of a future.

It was overwhelming. He couldn’t get closer to her, couldn’t hold her tighter without risking hurting her, even though a part of him was quite sure she was made of diamond and thus unbreakable, yet he tried to convey everything he was feeling at that moment.

They stayed wrapped in each other for a while, not caring about the time passing or anything else. Just before she let go of him, though, she placed a light, gentle, simple kiss at the place his heart was.  
Her way of saying she would protect him too.

After all, that’s what they always did. Protect each other.

\--  
He didn’t want to get out of the bed. Really didn’t. He knew he had to, knew the builders would be waiting for him to give his approval for the tiles he had picked from a catalogue before installing them.

He sighed, as he felt the chill of the air coming from the open window tease his skin, making him want to snuggle under the covers, to go back to sleep. He knew what Katniss would say if she were awake.  
To put a damn shirt on. Although he agreed on principle, he knew putting a shirt on would deprive him of several things he particularly enjoyed. 

First, the look Katniss always gave him when he took off his shirt, her eyes lingering on the expanse of his chest, following the muscles, making him happy, making him proud. Most importantly, though, it was in mornings his lack of shirt became essential, as the layers of clothes Katniss wore to bed often scrunched up her stomach, leaving patches of skin he was too eager to cover with his body, too happy to be the warmth she needed, too happy to be able to feel her skin directly.

He heard the sound at the same time he felt Katniss jump under his arm. Instinct took over as he moved hastily out of the bed, heading for the windows. He needed to check if there was danger.

He fell heavily on the floor.

“Peeta! Are you okay?” Katniss shouted, making her way around the bed to reach him. “Oh,” she let a muffled sound escape, 

He nodded, trying to prevent the tears from falling. He felt ashamed, humiliated.  
He had forgotten he had taken his leg off before slipping into bed the night before. The shorts he was wearing left his stump in plain sight, in plain view of Katniss’s eyes. After almost three years, he was still not used to seeing what had been his leg before, but was now nothing but irritated flesh and bones. 

He wasn’t ready for her to see it. He wasn’t sure she wanted to share that kind of intimacy with him.

He nearly cried when she rushed out of the door, her usually light feet echoing in the stairs that led down. He couldn’t believe it had happened. That somehow, he had forgotten his prosthesis. He had thought, maybe naively that it wouldn’t happen anymore, that he was past the stage of the ghost limb, past the shame.

How wrong had he been. Why couldn’t he have just slept with the prosthesis on, like every other night, despite the pain that he had been feeling for weeks now, despite everything.  
He should have endured the pain to avoid making Katniss flee away.

He looked around, trying to find something to hold onto while he put himself up, finally settling on the bed. His arms were shaking as he pulled himself onto the too soft mattress, too ashamed to look up, waiting for the sound the front door would make when she left. 

It took a lot of strength to not start crying when he heard the slam.

He shook his head when a sound coming from outside startled him again. This time, though, he was fully awake and realized it had nothing to do with the sound of a gun, or any kind of military thing he had heard before. This noise was almost … alive ?

He had to know. He crept up the mattress, moving towards the bedside table next to which his leg was, his intent focused on putting it back on, checking on that strange sound, before trying to find Katniss, to apologize, over and over.

“It’s the geese.” He almost fell from the bed again when he heard her voice, as soft and melodic as ever. “I have no idea why they’re not in Haymitch’s garden anymore, they must have fled?” she said casually, as if she hadn’t left him a few minutes ago.

He was ready to answer that no, he had no idea how the geese had found themselves in the street instead of their pen when he turned towards her. His mouth stayed opened, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“It’s not much, but I will make more. That’s all we have left, until I can find a beehive,” Katniss said, holding her hands out for him to see better.

She hadn’t fled, hadn’t left him. No, instead she had gone to her place to grab the balm her mother had sent her a few months ago, that helped soothe the scars the fire left on her. On him too, as she had shared the cream with him.

There was more, on the tray she was holding. Clean towels, a basin with fresh water, clean rags.  
How she managed to do all that while he was lamenting, he had no idea.  
Yet, she had.

He watched her carefully set the tray on the bed.

“Bloody geese,” he finally managed to say, as the animals started honking again, followed by a series of expletives from their old neighbor. “Haymitch seems to have them under control … right ? ”

Before she could reply, though, he turned, in search of his leg - he had almost forgotten his stump was on display in front of them.

Her hand on his arm stopped him.

“Let me help you,” she said.

“I can get it on my own…” He averted his eyes, wanting nothing more than to grab that damn leg and put it on, to gain a semblance of normalcy.

She was too quick, though.

“Let me help you, Peeta.” Her voice was soft and kind, caring, even. Before he could do anything, she grabbed his prosthetic, turning it to look at it carefully, then setting it down out of his reach.

He watched, amazed as she knelt in front of him, carefully taking some balm and applying it directly on his stump. He watched her, speechless, soothingly covering his injury in cream, taking her time to cover every inch of skin. 

The touch of her fingers was hypnotic, a caress of sorts, that at any other time he would have found highly erotic. That day, on their bed, in the morning, it was comfort. It was care. It was concern. He didn’t dare think about the word that came to his mind, because he couldn’t be sure it was appropriate. 

Love.

Not the passionate kind of love. Something deeper, that came from the core of his soul, so strong it could tie him to Katniss forever and a day.

“Show me,” she demanded, taking him out of his thoughts. She was cleaning her hands on a towel, the balm set aside on the tray.

“Show you what?” He could say he had no clue about what she wanted him to show her.

“How you put it on.” She grabbed his leg from its place next to the bedside, looking inside, then taking a rag and cleaning it carefully. “Your leg,” she declared, as if he needed more explanation on what she was doing.

Again, the words failed him. Not because of the venom that once ran through his veins, rather because he was still amazed by her behaviour. Without a word, he held his hands out, taking the leg from Katniss, adjusting it on his stump. He tried his best not to wince at the pain it caused him, the fit too small for his now bigger thigh.

“You need a new one,” she said simply.

“I don’t want to go to the Capitol.”

“Then the Capitol doctors will have to come here.”

“It’s not that simple…” he started.

“It is, Peeta. As simple as a phone call.”

“It doesn’t hurt that much…”

“Of course, and your leg is nearly bleeding because everything’s fine? Don’t lie to me, Peeta. I’m sick of people lying to me. We’ll call and someone will come.”

“There will be too much fuss...”

She shrugged his answer away.

“We’ll call Dr. A tonight. If we don’t tell Plutarch, Panem won’t know. How does it sound?”

“Katniss, you don’t have to, I am perfectly fine with this one.”

He could feel the intensity of her gaze before she walked to him, bending slightly until he felt her lips on his hair, leaving a small kiss there before she whispered in his ear.

“Did you forget? That’s what we do. We protect each other.”

He closed his eyes, too afraid to let fall the tears that submerged him.

She called the doctor that night.


	9. Interlude - November 11th.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special Day for Peeta :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small outtake into the story .. I know, outtakes are supposed to come after the story is closed, but hey, I am a rebel.   
> Comes with the nationality, I guess ?
> 
> Anyway, it's short, but fluffy. Very fluffy. Be warned if some cavities appear after reading this.
> 
> Once more, Xerxia did a GREAT and AWESOME job as a beta-reader. I wouldn't dare publish if it weren't for her skills :) thank you, friend of mine for your awesomeness and your delightful redpen !

There was something in the air, Peeta could tell. Katniss was acting almost as usual.  
Almost being the key word.

He knew something was up.

She hummed too much under her breath, absolutely denying it when Peeta pointed it out to her. 

She was spending time on the phone, too.   
Too much time for her. She just didn’t like talking to anyone she couldn’t see. It had been difficult enough to get her to talk to Dr. Aurelius on a regular basis, even though she herself admitted to seeing the benefits of it.

The weirdest thing, though, was that she even closed the door when she was talking on the phone.

At first, Peeta had dismissed it as more sessions with Dr. A, until the good doctor asked him to reschedule his weekly call with Katniss to Wednesday instead of their usual Monday afternoon call.

Who could she have been talking to on the other days?

A pernicious idea started to make his way through his mind.

The usual feelings of being worthless, of not being good enough slowly intruded, worming their way into his mind.

Slowly, insidiously.

Closed door after closed door, until the ghosts of doubt were there, playing with him.

The almost forgotten image of a face, of a man came to his mind, repeatedly.

Someone tall, handsome, with olive skin and dark hair.  
The shadows of his doubts, of everything he would never be came back with a vengeance.

Of course she was calling him. Of course she needed the privacy of the study to call him.

He knew the name of the poison creeping through his veins. Something deadlier than tracker jacker venom.

Jealousy.

He couldn’t fathom how Katniss could have forgiven Gale for being responsible for the death of her little sister. He couldn’t understand how she went from insisting on never talking about him to calling him privately.

What could they be talking about?   
All kinds of thoughts were passing through Peeta’s mind. Katniss commenting on his inability to walk through the woods, or the trouble he could have swimming. Or how bad a kisser he was. 

All kinds of negative thoughts rushed to his brain, one after the other, until the door swung open.  
Katniss walked out of the study, a smile on her face.

He saw the exact moment she noticed him, because her smile widened, she turned to face him, and in a split second her arms were around his neck, her lips on his.

“I’m so glad you’re here, with me,” she said, as she pecked him again. “Annie says hi... She told me she’ll send pictures of Aiden soon. Apparently, your godson has grown again.”

She smiled, again.   
The black clouds in Peeta’s mind drifted away, leaving him in peace.

It happened from time to time. Maybe Katniss needed the privacy of the study to talk to Johanna or Annie, or even her mother. Maybe she just needed to talk to someone other than him.

That made him both happy and sad. Happy that she was reaching out to the world, sad as he realized he maybe wasn’t enough anymore for her.

Such was life, he thought as he came back from the town center that Monday, carrying a small package that Katniss asked him to pick at the train station. 

His house was dark, a sign that she wasn’t home, probably at Haymitch’s to make sure he was eating this day.

As soon as he entered, dozens of small lights came to life. They were everywhere, climbing the pillars, lining the ceiling, giving a cosy feeling to the otherwise strict place.

The table near the fireplace was set for two, he could smell delicious things coming out of the kitchen. 

“Happy Birthday, Peeta.”

He looked around, searching for her.

He was speechless.  
His birthday has never been discussed between the two of them.  
Hell, his birthday had never been discussed at home, with his family.

“How did you know?” he whispered, tears pooling in his eyes. He was still searching for Katniss, who hadn’t shown up yet.

“Delly.” The sound of her voice was now closer, coming from the second floor.   
He heard the familiar creak of the second stair as she made her way down to him.

If he hadn’t been left almost speechless before, now he was at a complete loss for words. Instead of a usual attire of trousers and a loose shirt, she was wearing a dress. Not any dress.

An orange one, that fell to her knees, that left her arms bare save for the shoulders. 

A dress that let the scars mapping her body show.

She was radiant.

She was radiant for his birthday.  
For him.

“I asked Sae to cook for us - I didn’t want to risk messing things up. I hope it’s okay ?”

She had arrived at the bottom of the stairs and was fidgeting with her hands. Her hair was loose, falling in heavy waves over her shoulders, down her back, with just a very small braid around her head, keeping her hair from falling in her face.

“That’s… “ He couldn’t find the words. “You did this just for me ?” he asked, amazed.

“It’s your birthday, Peeta. You can even open your gift.”

For one split second, he thought that she was his gift. That she was ready to take their relationship to the next level. When she gestured towards the package he was still holding, he understood that she meant something else. He didn’t know whether he was sad or relieved. He just knew it wasn’t the right time for that step.

“You made me go and pick my own present?” he asked, surprised. 

“It was supposed to arrive two weeks ago, but Johanna messed things up,” she said, as she blushed.

“Johanna? Should I even open it?” 

She laughed, and it was like the rain after a drought, like a garden blooming just for him.

He slipped off his jacket, not letting the package leave his hands. He could feel the excitement building up in him, could feel something that felt a lot like happiness creeping into his veins.

Katniss had taken the time to find out when his birthday was, went to great lengths to surprise him with a birthday dinner, with a birthday present.

He opened the package slowly, trying not to be too giddy about it. He had no idea what to expect, he was just happy to have a present.

“A book?” he asked as the brown paper revealed the leather cover of what was indeed a book.

“I hope you like it…” He heard the uncertainty in her voice. There was no reason why he wouldn’t like it, unless it was a book about the uses of tracker jacker venom to get someone crazy.

He turned it to look at the title.

“Katniss,” he whispered, stunned. He could feel the tears falling on his cheeks, but there was no way he could stop them.

“I know it’s not your family book, that you won’t find everything you used to but -”

Her words were lost as he hugged her in his arms, the book safe between them.

“Thank you, thank you,” he muttered, over and over.

She had given him a book, filled with bread recipes from all over the former districts. There was a blank page next to each recipe, so he could take pictures of the goods when he baked them himself, she explained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, say it, please :)


	10. 9. Plumbing and Electricity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you've been expecting .... the progress of the relationship to the next stage :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks to the incredible xerxia for her beta-skills ! The story wouldn't be as readable as it is without her .

It was freezing outside when it happened.

Out of nowhere, the snowstorm had hit the Village, knocking out the electricity.   
They could only rely on the candles they had stored weeks ago out of habit, as well as the warmth of the fireplace.

On the second night, they decided to camp in the living room, not wanting to relive the cold night they had spent in each other’s arms, barely sleeping because of clattering teeth. The blowing wind hitting the shutters didn’t help their rest either.

They pushed the couch away, making a bigger space for the comforter they had brought down earlier. Peeta wanted to bring the mattress down too, but he agreed to Katniss’s proposition that they sleep on the couch cushions on the floor.

Then they stocked the fireplace with wood, before getting inside the makeshift bed, bathed in the warmth of the flames.

It took them only a few minutes to realize they were too warm. Too damn warm. 

Peeta had taken off his shirt before lying down, leaving his shorts on. He wasn’t ready to sleep next to Katniss in just his boxers. He didn’t trust his body enough.

There had been too many mornings lately when he had woken up to find himself spooning her a little too close, moving away quickly so as not to embarrass himself. The phenomenon had amplified since they’d started kissing, the little kisses from the beginning now turning into full make-out sessions, along with wandering hands that had gone from shy to not-so-shy anymore.

He remembered fondly the first time he had touched her breast, pulling back immediately as he was pretty sure he had crossed an uncrossable line. Instead, she had grabbed his hand, putting it back, so strongly he had almost lost all control of himself.

“You’re hot.” 

”What?” He was so lost to his lusty musing he wasn’t sure he understood her well.

“You’re hot. Warm. You should get rid of your pants too.”

“What? No, Katniss it’s not… proper.”

“Okay. So you don’t mind if I take my shirt off? Cause I’m very hot.”

“What?” 

Peeta had no clue what to say. 

“What if you’re cold later?”

She shrugged her answer.

“You’re like a living giant furnace. I won’t get cold. Plus I’ll steal all of the comforter.”

Peeta felt the laughter start in his belly.

“At least you admit it, stealing the comforter.”

“Only because you always keep the windows open! It’s freezing outside, Peeta. Freezing. Really.”

Peeta blushed. He opened his mouth to apologise, when Katniss put her finger on his lips.

“I know. I don’t mind. It’s just cold sometimes, that’s all. We’ll keep the windows open.”

Of course she knew. He felt relief at her understanding at what the fresh air meant, how it helped ground him in the present, to keep his mind safe, far, far away from that awful cell in the Capitol, or the small cupboard above the ovens.

To Peeta Mellark, fresh air meant being able to breathe. It meant freedom.  
It meant peace.

He could still feel Katniss’s finger on his lips, the softness of her skin, the kindness of her understanding. Ee kissed it, meeting her eyes.

He saw the change in her irises. How the grey turned a shade deeper, the same shade they had after he and Katniss shared a particularly hot making-out session.

He caved to his desire, caved to her eyes.

At one point, her shirt went off.  
At one point, their underwear disappeared.

Maybe it was the furnace, or the quiet, maybe it was the little cave they had created in their living-room, he couldn’t tell.

He let his hands wander all over her body, discovering planes and hills he had only dreamt of before.

He discovered that she reacted to the open-mouthed kissed she planted at the base of her neck with whimpers and moanings that almose made him lose his control.

That words whispered in the secret of her ear made her close her eyes, arch her back.

That her tongue, leaving a burning trace on his body was a weapon he gladly surrendered to.

It just happened.

It was rushed, as they were both eager, maybe too eager to discover this side of their relationship.

It didn’t matter.

They had their whole lives to practice.

\--  
Peeta woke up the next day, startled, with his heart beating too fast, Katniss wrapped around him.  
It took him a few minutes before he realized what was different from all the other mornings.

He was naked.  
So was Katniss.

It all came back to him in a rush. The fire in the fireplace, the make up bed on the floor, her finger, their kisses, that lead to...

“Oh my god!” he shouted, as he suddenly sat up, too stunned to realize he had woken Katniss up.

“What? Peeta! Are you okay?” Her tone was concerned, her touch light as a feather.

He turned to look at her .

“We… last night... we… oh my god, Katniss!” He felt his eyes open wide and a blush coming to his cheeks at the thought of what they had done.

He saw her face fall at his words. He saw the tears pooling at the corner of her eyes, as she grabbed the comforter to cover her naked body.

“I’m sorry Peeta, I know it wasn’t good… “ She scooted aways from him before adding “I know I wasn’t good—.”

“Stop that, Katniss, that’s not what I was thinking at all!” He moved closer to her, admiring her back while doing so, the lines of her muscles and the lines the flames had left behind, making her skin a kind of piece of art.

He put his arms around her, relief flooding him when she didn’t try to pull away from his embrace. How could she think she wasn’t good enough for him ?

There were still huge gaps in his memory, yet one thing he was sure of was that Katniss Everdeen, with all her flaws, was the one for him. What had started as a childhood crush so many years ago had developed into something deeper, more profound.

Something more real.

“What were you thinking about, then? Cause you looked pretty disappointed.”

Her voice was as sharp as her arrows had been back in the days she was still hunting to save her life. 

“Katniss, look at me. I’m not talking about this to your back.”

She shrugged as if it wasn’t something important.

It was just life-changing.

“Katniss Everdeen, look at me.” He knew how to push her buttons as well as she did his. 

He felt his heart do a somersault when she finally turned, apparent streaks of tears on her rosy cheeks.

She was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He thought he had seen all of her during the night, yet right at this moment, she was even more naked.

He tried to gather his thoughts, to not get distracted by the swell of a breast, by the expense of skin in front of him.

“Last night was… incredible.” He saw the relief in her eyes, as well as something else he wasn’t sure he could define. Fear? Disgust? “Don’t start doubting yourself, Katniss, please. If someone had told me that this would happen one day, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“You’re not disappointed?” 

“Why would I be?”

“I don’t know how…” she tried to convey her thoughts by gesturing between the two of them.

“We’ll learn... I’ll learn to give you as much as you gave me…. To last longer … ” he answered. It didn’t matter. “If you allow it.”

Peeta saw the small smile forming on her lips before she spoke.

“I’ll allow it.” 

She leaned in, kissing his lips. There was nothing he wanted more than a redo of last night, but Katniss broke the kiss, asking him, “Peeta, why did you shout?”

It was his turn to blush, reality coming to crash his bubble of happiness. Again.

“Last night we…” he sputtered. “We had sex…” There they were, the words, left hanging in the open.

He saw the effect they had on Katniss, her cheeks blushing instantly. He chose to go on with all his remaining courage.

“We, well, I… I didn’t think of… protection,” he hastily finished.

He knew what it meant. There was a chance Katniss could be pregnant right now.

Even though, in the end, starting a family with the woman of his own heart was all he ever wanted, he knew he wasn’t ready yet. Hell, she wasn’t ready either. 

Peeta expected her to burst into tears, or start shouting too.

He didn’t expect her to laugh softly, her small hand coming to cup his cheek.

“You didn’t have to, I took care of it.”

“You what ?”

“You remember when I went to the doctor’s because of my stomach cramps? A year ago or so?” she asked, her fingers playing on his fair skin. Damn, was she distracting. He nodded.

“Well, it turned out it was something I didn’t think of.” She took a deep breath. “My period came back, and damn it hurt. So Dr. Schwetzer offered to give me an implant that would help lessen the pain, and would work as a contraceptive. I said yes.”

It took Peeta a few seconds to process all that information. 

“One year?” he whispered, unaware he was talking.

“I knew it would happen anyway…” 

Peeta felt his heart grow bigger, joy extending in his chest at Katniss’s words.  
She knew too.

She.Knew.Too.

The electricity went back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please say so !


	11. 10. Inside walls, paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step after step, the rebuilding of Mellark's bakery comes to an end. It's time to discuss the painting on the walls.
> 
> Maybe it's also time for Peeta to free his mind of another problem ?
> 
> There might be a thing about turnips, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you so much for the reviews and kudos :) I will answer them, I promise :)
> 
> This story would be nothing without the huge help of the amazing xerxia (if you haven't read "Flashover" go, go go ! ) whose red pen is both my biggest fear, but also my best help. I can't express in words what you mean to me, dear friend :)
> 
> I hope you guys still enjoy readeing this story !

“What in the name of a rainbow is ‘Cerulean’? I mean, how can we choose a color if we don’t know what it means? This is crazy.”

“It’s a shade of blue, between light blue and navy blue,” Peeta answered, looking at the color chart in front of him.

“They can’t call it ‘middle blue’? At least we would understand.”

“Why? It’s already called cerulean, so no need for another name.”

“It’s blue! Like B.L.U.E why give it another name?”

Peeta put his color chart down on the table, before looking at Katniss.

“Why do we all have different names? All the men could be named Adam, all the women Eve. We are all different, so are the colors. People will say I have a fair complexion, that my eyes are sapphire blue, that your skin is olive-toned, that your eyes are like mercury. Would I be less Peeta if my eyes were green? Imagine a world without color, how sad would that be? We need names for everything, it’s part of human nature.”

He shrugged before standing up, walking closer to the wall between the kitchen and the front shop.

“I don’t want blue though.”

“And deprive Mrs London of the pleasure of comparing your eyes with the walls? She’ll be disappointed.”

“Har, har. No, I want something else, something more… orange? Something that’s more… me?”

Peeta touched the wall, letting his hand graze the surface that had been sanded by Thom and his crew, who were now waiting for instructions to paint the public part of the bakery. The kitchen had been painted white, with large tiles on the walls and floors, to make the cleaning easier.

“Peeta,” Katniss sighed, letting her own color chart fall on the table. “You don’t have to choose orange if you don’t like it. Just because I told you it was your favorite doesn’t mean that you have to stick with it. You know that, right ?”

Peeta shook his head. He knew she was right, that he had to find for himself what he liked, what his favorite things were, start back again and again, relearn everything. 

“I’m not going to paint you naked on the bakery walls, Katniss.”

“WHAT?” she shouted at his words. He smiled at the way she looked around, checking if anyone was there, her cheeks blushing.

“My favorite thing is seeing you naked. But I don’t think that’s fitting for a bakery.”

“Peeta Keemo Mellark!” 

There were a few things Peeta had discovered lately, one of them was that as much as she enjoyed herself in the privacy of their bedroom, she was all shy when it came to talking about making love in the open.

Or about how beautiful he thought she was when she was naked.

It usually made her blush, before she told him to shut up.  
Which he usually didn’t do.  
“I know, I know… but you know I wouldn’t do that, right?”

“You’d better not.”

He winked.

“Unless you asked me to, of course.”

He had barely painted since he had come back. Of course, he had drawn the bakery, tried his hand at a few things in his sketchbook, reacquainting his hands with the pen or the paintbrush. They now had dozens of sketches of Buttercup, or of Katniss’s hand. Drawing was like painting, though. It brought him some kind of equilibrium, some kind of peace, that made him feel at ease with himself, with the rest of the world.

“Maybe you could paint something else on the walls?” Katniss asked, as she put her head on his shoulder, an affectionate sign she only did when they were alone.

“I haven’t painted in forever. I don’t think I could.”

He felt her hand on his back, moving up and down, comforting. He liked this side of her, maternal, caring, comforting. He leaned back a little, bathing in the warmth that was coming from her hand. He wasn’t sure she was even aware of the gesture as she talked.

“I am sure you can. But it’s up to you to do it.”

“What would I draw? Bread?”

“Well, obviously, you’re not selling carrots or leeks. Maybe you could draw the plants? Like rye or rosemary? it doesn’t have to be a full painting either, just things here and there.” She moved towards the back wall, where the counter would be.

“Here, maybe we could have wheat? You know, a field of wheat with, I don’t know, one or two sheafs ? And here,” she added, walking towards the small wall behind the two large windows, “some spelt, or chives, the one you put into the cheese buns?” 

Peeta was torn in two at Katniss’s words, hesitating between smiling at her ideas, yet being afraid of not being able to convey her vision.

She must have seen something on his face, he realized, as she came back to him.

“Only if you want to, I mean, this is just an idea. It’s your bakery, it should be done the way you want it,” she said, taking his hand in her small one, lacing their fingers.

He had no idea what to say, using their joined hands to tug her into his arms. 

“You’re wrong, love, it’s ours.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he froze. He had used terms of endearments when they were together, but he never used this one. He had never said the words, either. Maybe it was too soon, too early, too precious, he didn’t know.

He felt her tense for a breath, then she relaxed in his arms.

______

He had never felt more lonely.

Well, he had, if he recalled the days he spent in the Capitol prison, back in the bad old days of three years ago.

There, though, he could fight. Or resist. He could do something.  
This day, in front of a blank canvas, he had no clue what to do.  
Or where to start.

The paintbrush felt weird in his hand, foreign. 

The silence around him was deafening. Katniss had left earlier to go on their weekly grocery shopping, using the time to check if Haymitch was also at his doctor’s appointment.  
The whole house was calm.  
Even Buttercup had decided to take another nap on the sofa instead of gallivanting around.

The poor cat barely went out anymore.

Peeta sighed as he brought back his thoughts towards the empty canvas. He had decided on a whim several days ago to try to paint again after discussing with Dr. Aurelius about who he used to be. After his talk with Katniss in the bakery, a sentence kept repeating in his head “You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.” 

Words Katniss had whispered in the sewers, years ago, that somehow stayed in his brain like a tattoo on his memory.

Words that helped him more than he was ready to admit. His mantra of some sort.

Peeta had agreed with the good doctor to try his hand at painting again, with colors, like he used to when he was younger. To see if that part of him was still there.

Or if it was another thing the Capitol had taken from him. 

Only now that he was facing the canvas, he had no idea what to do.  
Where to start.  
How to start.

He couldn’t remember what used to drive his hand, back in the days, what prompted him to draw. Was it a memory, or an image, was it something that would start building in his mind, adding details until he just had the whole painting drawn, his hands just putting it on the canvas.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t remember.

Peeta knew it was useless to search for that bit of his history, that it would only trigger bad memories.

“Peeta? Are you home?” 

Katniss’s voice echoed in the silent house. She had left earlier that day for the weekly market. She had left him with a kiss and a smile, taking with her the list of goods he had written down, even though he was pretty sure she’d never bring everything back. She hated turnips, while he liked putting some of them in the soup he was making.

It didn’t matter, really.

“In the office,” he called, shrugging as he stood up from his stool, covering the easel with a white sheet.

The door opened, she was smiling.

“You really expected me to buy turnips?”

“Katniss…” He really didn’t feel like explaining for the hundredth time that yes, they tasted good, when she cut him off.

“It’s okay, I brought you one or two.” She kissed him, one of her sweet pecks, before she headed out of the room. He followed her, needing to check on the turnip affair.

“Here they are, your holy roots of soup-making,” she said as she grabbed a small paper bag from her basket. “I looked for chives too, but will have to go to the woods to find some. The woman at the stand wanted to sell me garlic scapes in place of the chives. I wish I had taken my plant book to show her the difference…”

Peeta stopped listening as Katniss went on talking.

The plant book.

The one he had started to draw in between the two Hunger Games when Katniss had been stuck in bed.

The one he swore to finish for her.  
Snow made sure he hadn’t kept his promise.

He jumped when he felt Katniss’s hand on his arm.

“Are you okay?” She asked, a look of concern on her face. 

“I…” He couldn’t find the words, they were all rushing too quickly to his brain. He knew he had to reassure her that he was indeed okay.

“Where is it?” The words rushed out of his mouth.

“What? Are you okay?” Katniss was in full worry-mode now. 

Peeta forced himself to take a deep breath, to calm down, to relax.

“Katniss, do you know where the plant book is?”

“Of course. Why? Do you think there’s something in it that could help you?”

Peeta closed his eyes. 

“No, I just want to check something in it. Can you tell me where it is?”

He knew the book was with her things, in one of the boxes she always kept closed, because too many memories would come and assault her. One look at her face confirmed she knew it too.

“I can get it if you want?” he offered

“It’s in my room, in my house. In the dresser’s second drawer. We can go get it together, if you want?”

He nodded. In a blink, he was at the door, putting his shoes on when Katniss spoke again.

“You’re sure you’re okay, Peeta?”

He looked up at her, an easy smile coming to his face.

“Yes. I am.” He sighed before shaking his hand, turning the bad thoughts that were threatening to come back. “I just need to check if I finished the plant book, you know? I think I remember I did not have time to do it… I think I need to see it. To see I can draw something that isn’t pain, desperation or death.”

Maybe it was as simple as that, he realized as he talked.

He double-knotted his shoelaces and stood.

“I wasn’t able to draw anything today. I was wondering how I could start painting, how I used to do it, how an idea would form in my head. I couldn’t find any inspiration, couldn’t find anything to hang onto. I want to paint, but I can’t seem to start.”

He took her hand.

“Then you talked about your father’s book, and it clicked. Maybe I can’t start something unless I have finished what I left undone before? Maybe a canvas is too big for me right now? I don’t know if the book is the solution, but I want to try…” 

He saw the tears pooling in her eyes, a small smile.

Then she nodded.

Without letting go of her hand, they went to Katniss’s house, on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, you know what to do !


	12. Exterior walls coating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words on the last chapters.   
> Be warned though on this one . It's angsty ! (well, it's me and there hasn't been angst in at least the last 3 chapters ... You know I like my angst.)  
> Two more chapters after this one and the story will be done ... 
> 
> I couldn't have written this story without xerxia. Not only is she a GREAT beta reader and word proofer, but she also makes the story better with her suggestions and ideas. Thank you, friend of mine !

April.

Katniss was too distracting. It was a simple fact.

He never expected her to distract him so much at the bakery. At home, he didn’t mind at all, her distracting him led to enjoyable times in their bedroom or any other place they fancied trying over and over again. Discovery was a great thing.

At the bakery, they kept to themselves, mostly. Peeta had been adamant about hygiene rules, about things that couldn’t be done on the counter.

Or at least, couldn’t be done when there were preparations to be made.

This day, she was too distracting for him to be able to focus on his task. She was there, with him in the kitchen of the bakery, sorting through the herbs she had gathered earlier in the woods, her father’s book open in front of her.

She was singing. Peeta wasn’t even sure she realized she was doing it, though, as she was focused on the task at hand.

Yet, she was. It was one of those ballads that he had heard all his life in the district, about summertime, a mother talking to her child, a song he knew by heart.

It was beautiful, it was warm, and it totally prevented him from working on decorating the cake he was preparing. Putting a layer of frosting on the top of a sponge cake required concentration and precision.   
Two things that he was denied because of Katniss singing. 

It didn’t matter. He put the cake away in the fridge, then walked towards the counter where Katniss was. He couldn’t resist kissing her neck when he was close.   
The smile she gave him was worth the extra time he’d spend working on the cake later. He still had two full days until Delly’s toasting. Or wedding, like they were calling it now.

“Hey, Stranger,” she whispered, turning to face him. Her hand traced the muscles of his torso, making him shiver. she had quite a talent for that, he had discovered. Not that he was complaining.   
He jumped when he felt her hand under his shirt, as her lips were tracing his jaw, planting kisses that he knew would get them into trouble.

Or not.

He could feel his body start to betray his everlasting desire for her, could feel his resolve at “not in the kitchen, Katniss!” slipping away as if it never existed, just like the other times. He could feel her body heat through their layers of clothing, could feel her press against him, as her lips came tentatively close to his, as he was getting close to letting go of every reservation he had.

The bakery door slammed. A voice echoed in the empty shop.

“Peeta? Are you there?”

“Thom?” Peeta asked, and pulled himself away from Katniss. She smiled as she leaned in, to whisper in his ear.

“Think of Greasy Sae, it will help you … get down.” She left a kiss on his cheek, leaning in a bit more so Peeta could feel her breasts against his torso. Too soon she pulled away and started walking towards the door connecting the kitchen and the shop.

“We’re back here, Thom.” 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” Thom asked with a smile.

“Not at all, we were finishing the cake for Delly’s toasting. Or Wedding? What should we say?” Peeta chimed in.

“I think the new term is wedding, but I think Del will still toast. Old habits and all that.” Thom shrugged. “Anyways, I came here to discuss the exterior paint of the building. Did you make a decision?”

“The coating?“ Peeta asked, trying to gather his mind, which currently was trying to end a situation in his pants. “I thought we agreed?”

“Just wanted to check if you wanted to change your mind, as we will start on Monday, and I’ve received the paint cans. Maybe you want to look at them?”

Peeta really didn’t want to. Yet he nodded to Thom.

\--   
It took Thom and his team only two days to paint the whole building a light brown color that covered and protected the wood of the storefront. It shone in the morning light of the district, with lines a few shades darker to enhance the design of the bakery.

It was sober, it was classy, it was everything Peeta ever wanted. Katniss had been adamant about the colors. They had to be his choice, his view. She had pushed his limits, refusing to be part of the choice.

It was his bakery, she had told him.  
He viewed it more as their bakery, something they had built together.

“Where will you put the sign?” Thom pulled Peeta out of his thoughts.

“The sign?” he answered, taken aback.  
“The Mellark Bakery sign? There’s always been a Mellark Bakery here, you need one.” 

Peeta took a step back, as if he had been punched in the stomach.  
A Mellark bakery.

Mellark.

As in his father’s name.  
His mother’s too.  
His own name.

Mellark, like the four little white stones that adorned the new cemetery.  
Four little white stones were all that remained of his family.

There was nothing under.

Nothing.

But the earth, the grass, some worms.

Worms.  
Shiny.  
Shiny little worms.

Shiny is danger, a voice echoed in his head.  
Shiny is wrong.

Peeta closed his mind to his surroundings, to the shouts, to the sounds, focusing only on a voice and a sentence.   
He wanted to shout that no, he wasn’t having an episode of any kind, that no, the demons were not hunting him like they did in the arenas.

He wasn’t having an episode.

He felt the tears fall on his cheeks, tears that maybe he should have let fall years ago, that he had kept inside, tears that he needed now to wash his soul, his body, his memories.

He felt arms around him, like a shelter protecting him from the world.   
He felt warmth chasing the fears, like a knight chasing a dragon.

He smelt the woods and the wildflowers, smelt the rain of the forest nearby.  
He heard her voice, comforting, warm, kind.

The tears were still falling.

He heard the sobs, tearing his heart apart. He needed to feel the hurt, so he could heal.  
He knew this.

Damn if it didn’t hurt.

He hung onto the arms holding him until the tears were gone, until the memories had passed.

He opened his eyes with difficulty, sealed as they were by the tears.

“I need to go to the cemetery,” he whispered to Katniss. She nodded, holding her hand out to him, as if she was strong enough to help him.

Maybe she was, after all. She was the one holding him together, he realized. 

Just like he was the one keeping her sane.

She slipped under his arm, as if she wanted to carry him.

They walked a few steps in silence.

Until he felt his other arm being lifted too, higher than Katniss could go, with a body slipping there too, stronger than she was.

Katniss was soon replaced too. She still held his hand.

Someone else opened the door to the cemetery.

Peeta fell on his knees in front of his parents’ and brothers’ empty graves.

More tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t care.

“I forgive you, Mother, for all the hurt you’ve done. I forgive you, Da, for not seeing. Tom, Alex, I love you.”

The tears were falling openly on his cheeks.

“I hope at some point you loved me. Cause I did. I do. I love you.”

It was freeing, he realized, telling someone you loved them. Even if they couldn’t hear it. Because he knew he now could forgive her. 

That he didn’t have to carry her wrath with him anymore.

He felt liberated.

When he stood up, he realized he wasn’t alone. Katniss, Haymitch, Thom and his crew were still there, giving him his privacy.

He realized they were watching after him.

He was okay with that.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, turning to the people gathered there, smiling at them. Some people nodded before taking off, some shook his hand, some whispered words in Katniss’ ear.

They came for him, to help him, he realized. They cared.

It takes a village, they used to say.  
It really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See ? it was angsty :)
> 
> Please do not hesitate to leave a comment :) They really make my day !


	13. Furniture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter almost concludes the bakery. One more chapter after this one...   
> This story wouldn't be a thing without xerxia :) thanks, my friend !

May.

Maybe it was because they just wanted to leave, they had more time due to the longer days, or because there wasn’t a lot to be done at the bakery anymore.

Maybe it was just the right time.

They had talked it through, over and over again, weighing the pros and the cons, until they had reached an agreement. There was no need to have two houses, three if they counted the one next to the bakery, no need to have that much space when they spent their time in only one of them.

The choice had been difficult to make.  
Katniss didn’t want to live in the house she’d been assigned, where too many memories of her family often came to haunt her.  
Peeta wasn’t really fond of staying in his house where too many memories of loneliness came to him. 

They agreed, though, that they were ready to take a new step in their lives.

They would move into the house in town when it was ready, in a couple of weeks. The prospect of having full time electricity, and access to all the novelties the new regimen allowed that were making life in town more bearable than before was exciting. The new laws regarding the private life of citizens issued by the office of President Paylor were another reason to not avoid the center of town anymore. Freedom of travel without being tracked by or traced by anyone was something entirely new.

That the press wasn’t allowed to harass anyone in public anymore was an advantage too.  
New laws had been passed under the new government, new laws that gave more freedom to everyone in the districts, while taking away a lot of privileges from the former upper class. Fashion had changed, too. Gone were the colored or tattooed skin, gone was the extravagance born from decades of tyranny. The world they were living in now was starting to look more like a democracy rather than a dictatorship.

Plus, the novelty of being the Star Crossed Lovers had died down months ago. They no longer made the news for their every move, no longer interested a lot of people. Sure this would change with the celebrations coming for the autumn festival, celebrations for the new country, but they could deal with it. In a way, they needed it too.

So with time the presence of the so-called journalists had faded, until they were only spotted once in a while, for the big events.

There were so many other pressing matters with the new governance, the evidence of other populations in countries nearby, and even rumors of countries on the other sides of the oceans.

Katniss and Peeta had decided that they would keep Peeta’s house, as a way to escape from town if the pressure happened to be too unbearable, if the need showed to go back to the quiet and peace of the Village. 

It took Katniss some time to go through all her belongings. She cried when she opened the part of her closet that contained all the dresses Cinna made her, even more so when she carefully folded them, discovering pieces she had never paid attention to before.

She cried also when they went through her mother’s room, where small tokens of the life Rose Everdeen had shared with her husband were either hidden in a box, or displayed in plain sight. Katniss had gathered them carefully, even kissing her father’s wedding band, enveloping it in an old handkerchief marked HE. 

She had never been able to pass through the door to her sister’s bedroom. 

They had locked the door to the past, hoping for a future they still had to build.

Maybe they would come back to it one day. 

\------------

They started to move things one case at a time, beginning with the winter clothes that had been stored, waiting for the cold days to come back.  
Books followed, the large cases so heavy they had to use the little cart that was stored in the shed to move them on the rainy roads.

Day after day, the houses in Victor’s Village emptied, day after day, the house in town got fuller, until only the essentials were left at Peeta’s place. 

“How do we move the bed?” Katniss asked one morning, as they laid on it, naked and sated. “It’s heavy.”

Peeta chuckled. The bed was in the house when he had won it, just like every other piece of furniture they owned. 

“To be honest, I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t want to move it to town.” He turned on his side, looking at Katniss lying next to him.

“We could, I mean, like, hum, buy furniture? Something that would be… ours? Not something the Capitol provided us with,” he added, shyly. 

He had no clue what she thought about his idea, if she was domestic enough to care.

She remained on her back, her eyes trained on the ceiling, her hand tracing a pattern on her naked chest. Peeta could see she was lost in thought, completely unaware of the effect her simple motion was having on him

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined how amazing his intimate life was right now. It’s like he could never have enough of Katniss, as if every movement she made would lead to a burning desire within him.  
It had now been months since that first time, yet he couldn’t find it in him to not desirie her every day, several times a day.

There were so many worse games to play, he thought, still following her fingers, barely touching the skin of her breasts.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his eyes lingering on the drawing her hand was forming.

“I’ve already been,” she answered, sadness in her voice.

“What?” All thoughts of pleasure went out the window at her words. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve already been the death of you, Peeta. So many times.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right? We’ve talked about this already.”

“I know. It’s just… you were dragged in all this because you loved me…”

“I vividly recall Effie drawing my name out of a glass bowl, though.”

“Maybe that’s the only part I wasn’t involved in. But for the rest… you wanted to die so I could live. It’s like you said in D13. You must have loved me a lo …”

There was so much sadness in Katniss’s voice, it almost broke Peeta’s heart. He couldn’t understand what had happened for her to change her mood all of a sudden.

Then it hit him.  
Like a train in the chest.

A heavy one.

It was obvious, though. She said it twice in the span of less than two minutes.   
She had said loved. As in the past tense. 

He was glad he had gone through so much with Dr. Aurelius, because the answer was obvious to him now.

“No, Katniss. I didn’t love you.” He took a deep breath, as the question of the furniture seemed so far away from his mind now. “I still do. I love you. They never took that from me. Never.” 

He could see she wanted to speak, but he knew that it was his time to talk.

“Yes, Katniss even in D13 when I yelled at you. I still loved you deep inside. It took me time to realize it, a long time, maybe too long, but what kept me sane during those times was this little flame inside of me, something they were never able to take away. It was my love for you. Don’t you dare forget you risked everything in the tunnels to keep me whole. Don’t you dare forget how many times you put yourself at risk to save me… You were willing to die for me when you left me in Tigriss’s shop. So don’t you say you’ll be my death. You’re the exact opposite. You’re my life.”

He could see the tears pooling in her grey eyes. 

She surprised him, though, as she moved into his arms. Peeta could feel her tears on his skin, a salty balm on his scars, a salty balm on his soul maybe. They had never talked about their feelings for one another, as they started their road to recovery. All had been left unsaid, even though everything was done, words remained unspoken.

Maybe they needed to open up to one another too.

\--

“But it’s green! It’s your favourite colour!”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it, Peeta. There’s no way I am sleeping in that horrible bed.” Katniss threw the tablet on the coffee table. “We shouldn’t have asked Effie.”

“There’s no furniture store in D12 yet, we have to order online.” Peeta shrugged, bending to grab the electronic device.

“You can go and buy them. Plus, you’d get your appointment at the hospital for your leg.”

“I could end up buying something like that, you know?” Peeta pointed to the glass-shaped bed Effie had sent a picture of.

“Well, you’d be sleeping in it alone, mister. No way I’m sleeping in something like that.”

“I don’t want to go to the Capitol.”

“I can’t go with you…”

“Katniss, even with you, I would not want to go to the Capitol. There are so many other places to visit, when you can get out of here.”

“Maybe we can go visit Jo or Annie one day?” 

“Definitely. In between, we have to find a bed.” Peeta smiled. “And not one that is emerald glass shaped.”

He laughed at the look of disgust that appeared on Katniss’s face at the mention of the picture of the bed Effie had sent them.  
He was still smiling when her features changed into something more thoughtful, as if she had had an idea.

“Maybe…” she began before getting lost in her thoughts again.

He liked these moments when he could admire her, look at the lines of her profile, at how graceful her neck was, at the swell of her breasts. His fingers itched to touch them, to worship them over and over.

“Delvin!” Peeta had to lift his gaze from her chest at the sound of Katniss’s voice. 

“Who?”

“Delvin, Delly’s brother… “ As she rose from the sofa, to pace around the living room, Peeta grabbed a pillow that he threw as naturally as he could in his lap.

Damn desire.

“I know who Delvin is, Katniss.” He almost sighed. Another thing the Capitol had taken from him. Memories of his family, friends and relatives. Memories he still hoped would come back someday

“Did you know he built Sae’s rocking chair?” She had a spark in her eyes as she spoke. “Maybe we could ask him for some furniture? Not everything, but maybe the bed?” Katniss took a breath. “I’d like to have something that comes from here, not something made in a factory or... I want something real, if you agree?”

How did he forget about Delvin’s activities? His best friend’s brother had found salvation in woodworking, using plans supplied by the former inhabitants of D13, using the knowledge of the survivors, to create things out of all the debris the bombing of the district had left, mostly untouched.

Delvin had started with small things, using wood mainly, as a way for him to forget about the past, to start over new.

“I like this idea. Has he done a bed before?” Peeta wondered if the young man would be up to the project.

“I don’t know. The bed doesn’t have to be perfect…” Katniss didn’t finish her sentence, letting the words die in the silence. She didn’t need to complete it, because Peeta understood what she thought.

So it will be like us.

Instead, he smiled and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is nearly the end ... please let me know what you think :)


	14. Opening

July.

Peeta looked at the building, on the other side of the street.

Freshly cleaned, the sign proudly displayed over the doors.

A simple word. Bakery.  
Nothing fancy, nothing more than the business.

He didn’t want people to come for the name. He wanted people to come for the quality of the bread.   
He was happy to stay behind, in the kitchen, preparing the batches for the next day, or experimenting to find a new recipe.

Katniss wouldn’t be at the counter either. She’d been adamant about it. Her place wasn’t in the bakery, even though Peeta had insisted time and time again that it was theirs.

She told him no time and time again.

He didn’t insist. He knew she needed to find her path, too.  
She didn’t hunt anymore, telling him she had shed enough blood for dozens of lifetimes.

She started gathering herbs, with the help of her father’s plant book.

Peeta looked at her, standing next to him, her tiny hand held in his bigger one. 

He could see the spark in her eyes.

“Are you ready?” she asked, tightening her hand. 

“Honestly? I don’t know.” Peeta shrugged. “There’s so much more we could have done, so many things I-”

“That’s why we have all the time to do them, Peeta.”

“I guess so.” He dragged her to him, engulfing her in a hug. “Thank you, Katniss,” he whispered in her ear.

She pulled back, looking at him with surprise on her face.

“I didn’t do a thing. It’s your project, Peeta.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re my strength, Katniss.” He moved a lock of hair from her face, before going on. “You were there every day, helping me, setting me straight when I needed it. Thank you for letting me into your life.”

“You saved me, you know that?” 

Peeta was surprised at the words coming from Katniss. He was about to answer, but she wasn’t done talking.

“Everybody had left me. My dad, Prim…” she closed her eyes, to blink away the tears that still threatened to fall each time her sister was mentioned. “Finnick, Cinna, Gale, my mother… You, of course. Even Haymitch.“ They both knew their old mentor had fallen back into his drinking habits, the only way for him to cope with a world he hated, for the hate he had in him for sending kids to death year after year. “I thought if I waited long enough, I would join her. I would be dead, and there would be no more pain.”

He raised his hand to wipe away a tear that had escaped her eye.

“Then you came back. And everything changed. Maybe I’m your strength… but you’re my life.”

He was at a loss for words. Katniss rarely talked that much, but when she did, damn if it didn’t go directly to the heart.

He turned to look at the bakery that would open the next day. He felt the pride in his chest, surging, threatening to explode for the world to see.

He jumped as he felt her hand on his cheek, realizing she was sweeping a tear from his own eyes. He looked at her, standing in front of him, still in the cradle of his arms, then leaned in, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Then he pulled away, holding out his hand to her. They had a bakery to prepare for the grand opening.

“Together?” he asked.

“Always,” she answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day, that concludes the Bakery.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who liked and kuddo-ed this post Mockingjay - pre epilogue fic. It took me quite a long time to write it, to find the perfect way of writing Peeta's POV as canon as possible. I just hope I did him justice.
> 
> To Xerxia, dear friend of mine, I can't even start to find the words to thank you for everything you did. For the horrendous task that is beta-ing a french woman writing in English, for your insight, for the talks about the story that helped move it forward, for the awesomeness that you are. 
> 
> Without further words, I bade you all goodbye :) See you hopefully for another story.  
> In the meantime, the Comments button is what makes me want to go on writing !
> 
> Much love   
> merciki/thegirlfromoverthepond


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